


A Source of Safety

by CoffeeQuill



Series: Love Like You [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Din Djarin - Freeform, Force Visions, Found Family, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorians - Freeform, Mando'a, Meditation, Memories, Nightmares, Original Mandalorian Characters - Freeform, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Removal of Religious Clothing, Revenge, Separation Anxiety, The Dark Side of the Force, The Darksaber, The Force, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: “No,” Din repeats.“You can’t go.”He smiles. He gently scratches, with one hand coming to stroke his ears, and the kid practically melts beneath it. “I don’t want to,” he murmurs. “I’d rather be here with you. But this is something that we have to do.”----The penultimate adventure. The Mandalorians battle for the Darksaber.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Luke Skywalker, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla
Series: Love Like You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581040
Comments: 93
Kudos: 564





	1. The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, nearly come to the end. One more fic is planned after this one, and then the series is at its end. This plot is already determined but not completely written out, so we won't be on quite as tight a schedule as the last one.
> 
> Come chat on the [Discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

_ He doesn’t know where he is, only that he is sitting. Around him is nothing but black. Darkness swirls in smoky clouds, surrounding the room. He looks around, then stands, shaky and disoriented. _

What is this place?

_ Screams begin in the distance. Guttural, shrill, in agony. Mournful wails. Death rattles. It’s the sounds of suffering. _

_ Blasters fire. Rapid shots that cut off with a new scream. The sound of a lightsaber slicing through the air, through bodies, through flesh. He runs towards the noise. His heart is pounding in his chest, fearing the worst. _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ The voice is familiar. Familiar enough that it draws him to a panicked stop before he turns the corner. “Mando!” he calls. _

_ The Mandalorian stands, his blaster in hand. Across from him stands a small figure, cloaked, but almost impossible to not recognize. Around them are the bodies of Mandalorians, bodies slashed or sliced apart. His heart stops as the hood falls. _

_ Yellow eyes, rimmed with red, stare back at the Mandalorian. _

_ “Kuiil,” the Mandalorian pleads. “Stop. You have to stop.” _

_ The red lightsaber hums at Kuiil’s side. He doesn’t move, staring at the Mandalorian. His expression is of angry determination. _

“Ad’ika.  _ Please.  _ Udesiir.  _ None of this is right.” The Mandalorian sinks to his knees. He places the blaster down beside him. “This is your family.  _ Gar aliit.  _ Listen to me, please.” _

_ “Mando! No!” _

_ Kuiil watches him. He doesn’t move. His expression softens--or it’s only a trick of the light. The Mandalorian reaches a hand out to him, trembling. _

_ “Kill him,” a voice commands. A figure cloaked in black steps out of the dark clouds, into the light. His face is masked by a hood, his voice deep. “Or you will never be free.” _

_ The boy’s gaze hardens again. He twirls the lightsaber and steps closer. _

_ “N-No.” The Mandalorian grabs the blaster and pushes himself back. “No. Kuiil.  _ No.  _ Listen to me, to  _ buir,  _ please, you know how wrong this--” _

_ “Now!” _

_ Kuiil lunges. The Mandalorian shoots but it’s dodged with ease and the lightsaber swings in bright arc. It meets the beskar of a vambrace, hissing as it bites into the metal. The Mandalorian gasps for breath. He kicks out, shoving Kuiil back, but the boy catches himself and lunges again. _

_ The Mandalorian dives out of the way. “I can’t fight you,” he pleads. “Kuiil. Whatever he’s promised you isn’t worth--” _

_ He’s shoved back, slamming against the wall, and falls to the floor. He lets out a groan, then cocks his blaster at Kuiil.  _ “Cyar’ika,”  _ he whispers. Kuiil pauses.  _ “Ner ad. Ner ik’aad.”

_ For a moment, everything is still. _

_ Then the Mandalorian twists his wrist and fires a bolt at the cloaked figure. It stops in mid-air, halfway before its target. For a second, it only hovers in the air, and the Mandalorian sucks in a breath. Kuiil’s arm is outstretched. Then the bolt shoots in reverse. The Mandalorian flinches and groans as the bolt deflects off his pauldron. _

_ A lightsaber plunges through his heart. _

_ “No!” _

_ The Mandalorian slumps to the floor, still and unmoving. The room falls silent. Kuiil steps over his legs and stands in front of the helmet, staring down into the visor. It reflects him back, the lightsaber thrumming and his eyes yellow. _

_ He murmurs beneath his breath. _

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

_ “Splendid work, my pet,” the figure drawls. _

_ The lightsaber shuts off with a hiss. Kuiil places the lightsaber on his belt, then reaches up and snaps off something at his neck. He places it down beside the Mandalorian--the skull of a mythosaur. Then he turns and walks towards the figure. After a few steps, he leaps and lands on his shoulder, clinging with ease. _

_ “You’ve learned much.” _

_ Kuiil doesn’t respond. The figure turns and begins walking again into the darkness. _

“Skywalker.”

_ But Kuiil whips around to look back, demonic eyes staring into his own. _

“Luke!”

Luke jerks awake, staring ahead. Those same eyes are looking into his own, the same sith in his lap--

Then he hears a squeak and realizes what’s happening. Kuiil is sitting in his lap, staring up at him with wide eyes-- _ brown  _ eyes, no yellow but for the specs of gold within. Luke is gripping him by the shoulders, far too tight.

In an instant, Luke lets go, breathless.

“It’s okay. You just scared him.”

To his left, the Mandalorian stands. Whole. Fine. No trace of a lightsaber through his chest. His arms are crossed until he reaches out his arm to Kuiil. The boy has a guilty expression as he looks at Luke, then he turns and jumps onto the Mandalorian’s wrist, climbing up onto his shoulder.

“Maz said you got here last night,” the Mandalorian says. “We just landed.”

Luke just stares at him.

“... We’ll wait for you in the room.” The Mandalorian turns and walks down the tunnel. Kuiil clings to his pauldron. Luke watches them go, until they make a turn and disappear from sight.

He falls back on the bed and takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling.

This hasn’t been the first nightmare involving the Djarins. It’s just one of many in the last several weeks, the same results via different methods. But all have been the same. Kuiil slaughters the Mandalorians, and there’s some cloaked figure--Gideon, maybe--who goads him to continue. Din Djarin always tries to reason with him. He’s always cut down.

But Kuiil isn’t a sith. There is darkness inside him but there is no indication of sith-like behavior. He’s a sweet boy. He’s kind and considerate, bratty at times, he hates lying and loves to play. He’s innocent and naive and loves his father more than anything. 

The nightmares--or visions, Luke isn’t sure anymore--want to suggest otherwise.

He sighs and pushes himself out of bed, smoothing back his hair and grabbing his cloak. Din Djarin has little to no trust in his idea of memory retrieval. Acting strange or distracted would only draw his suspicion.

So he pulls on the cloak and his boots. He begins walking down the tunnel, following the path the two had taken.

When he steps into their room--a small, quiet one, unused by Maz--the two are waiting for him. Kuiil is sitting on the mat, floating a group of toys in front of him. The Mandalorian is at a table against the wall, examining his blaster. Both are talking in their language.

They stop as he enters. Kuiil gives him a smile, but there’s still guilt clear in his eyes. The Mandalorian gives him a nod.

_ Don’t use his name, even if you know it,  _ Maz had told him.  _ Mandalorians are cautious with their names. It is a symbol of trust to know them. Don’t speak his unless he gives it. _

He’s had to catch himself numerous times.

He gives Kuiil a smile and sits down opposite him, cross-legged. 

_ “Su’cuy!”  _ Kuiil says.

_ “Su’cuy,”  _ Luke responds. To the side, the Mandalorian huffs but doesn’t speak. Kuiil teaching Luke words in Mando’a has been something the Mandalorians get worked up about but as far as he knows, they haven’t actually told him to stop.

_ “Me’vaar ti gar?” _

Luke hesitates, thinking.  _ “...Narser?” _

Kuiil shakes his head.

_ “Kaysh mirsh solus,”  _ the Mandalorian mutters with an amused breath.

Kuiil whips around. “Don’t be mean!” he snaps.

The Mandalorian stiffens, then leans back, looking as chastised as one could be with a hidden face.

Luke looks at him, then back at Kuiil. He pauses, then tries,  _ “... Naas?” _

Kuiil smiles and nods. “Nothing new!”

Luke smiles. He adjusts to straighten his back. “Ready?”

Kuiil nods again and matches Luke’s posture, straightening up. The Mandalorian often reminds him to fix his posture, but he typically slouches. Luke bows his head and closes his eyes, and knows Kuiil does the same.

Both their minds reach out, connecting, and in an instant, the rest of the room fades away.

Kuiil’s presence is warm and gentle. It’s just as kind and sweet and welcoming as the boy is, and Luke enjoys the comfort it brings. It’s so difficult to look at the child, feel his energy, and even imagine that there’s any darkness there at all. But it lingers at the edges, ever present, and Luke can feel it if he tries.

This time, he doesn’t try to find it, and instead allows their minds to blend together. Kuiil opens his consciousness like they’ve practiced, and both breathe in sync as he allows Luke to delve in deep. He makes a small whimper, but then quiets—the sensation certainly can’t be pleasant.

Luke pushes further into his mind. Kuiil allows it. This is what they’ve been working at, just allowing the boy’s consciousness to open and reveal what is hidden. Luke senses memories--very recent ones. Some are locked away, clouded by white smoke, private things. But hiding is difficult and tiring, so he lets some peek out, allowing Luke to see.

_ Held in his father’s arms, giggling as he’s tossed in the air and caught again. _

_ Playing with another child, moving blocks. _

_ Watching stars go by from the front of a ship. _

Happy. Happy memories. But not what they’re looking for.

When Kuiil whimpers again, his concentration wavering, Luke knows they’re getting closer. It’s uncomfortable to have someone poking so deep in his mind. The hidden memories are revealed, energy directed towards staying focused, and Kuiil takes a shaky breath.

_ I won’t look,  _ Luke thinks to him, even as dozens of memories seem to shout their content at him. Voices and noises, talking and laughing and yelling and crying all blend together. Pain and sadness and joy and contentment all rush at him.

One jumps out, demanding to be seen. Kuiil is young, still a baby, curled up beneath something--it’s dark, shadowy, in hiding. The Mandalorian is lying on the floor, in the light, an arm reached underneath. He talks, begging the child to come out, that he’s sorry. 

He’s helmetless, but his facial features are too distorted to see anything. The child feels betrayed.

Luke tears his attention away from the memory, even as it weighs at him.

Instead, he presses on.

He approaches their limit—he knows because the memories become sparser, shorter, more flashes of sight and smell and hearing than anything else. A soft voice whispering, singing a lullaby. The smell of cooking meat. Blurry lights.

Kuiil begins to pant, whimper, clearly distressed. Then it eases, slightly, and Luke senses the Mandalorian has come closer, is sitting beside Kuiil to rub his back and steady him. Kuiil’s noises quiet down, and Luke pushes deeper.

Past the limit.

A memory drifts before him, hidden through the darkness.  _ Bright lights. A hallway. Noises--rhythmic, loud, approaching, like marching feet. The child plays on the floor. He crawls after his toys and tosses them into the air with the Force, making them fly and spin about. He giggles, delighted. _

_ Someone else is in the room. Two people. Maybe more. They’re talking, but their voices are only a background rumble to the child’s focus.  _ Look up,  _ Luke thinks.  _ See who’s with you.

_ Only background rumble.  _ Kuiil didn’t know what the words meant then. So the meaning doesn’t appear in the memory. But it’s exactly what he’s looking for.

He pushes the memory aside and reaches deeper. 

There’s a single memory. No vision, no scent, no smell or touch, just a sound that sends a chill straight down his spine.

Mechanical, strained breathing, with thundering footsteps.

Even as the sound makes him feel displaced from his own body, Luke reaches for the memory, to grab a hold and look deeper. Only he’s met with strong resistance, shoved back, and Kuiil’s mind pulls away from his. Luke swallows hard and falls back, shaking.

Kuiil lets out a sob, trembling, and is climbing into the Mandalorian’s lap. The Mandalorian gathers him up and holds him close.

Luke closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath, willing the panic inside himself to go away. The Mandalorian murmurs to Kuiil in Mando’a, until the tears stop and the child only burrows against his cuirass.

“That’s enough for now,” he says. He doesn’t sound angry.

Luke nods, trying to control his shaking.. “That was… better. Better progress.”

“Hope it’s worth it,” he says, and while it’s not particularly venomous, Luke feels the sting.

Once Kuiil has begun to calm, Din takes him up to the bar to get some food. Maz is quick to get it to them. Then they venture out into the cool air, trekking away from the castle towards the  _ Razor Crest’s  _ usual parking spot.

They sit on the edge of the ramp. Din slips off his helmet and unwraps the food, handing a portion to Kuiil. Kuiil sniffles and takes it, beginning to gnaw on the meat, and Din watches him for a moment.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs.

Kuiil sniffs again. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Does it hurt you or does it scare you?”

Kuiil seems to stare at the food before answering. “Scary,” he whispers.

Kuiil’s presence brushes against his mind. Din lets him in. They brush together, warm and soft, exactly as it should be. Kuiil turns away and leans back against his leg, beginning to really eat.

The forest is quiet around them, branches swaying in the breeze, and both eat in silence. The last of his meal gone, Din leans back on his hands, looking out towards the clearing. Soon, Kuiil finishes too and climbs up into his lap, lying back against him. They just sit in comfortable quiet, until Kuiil finally speaks.

“You’re going to leave,” he says, his voice soft and sad.

Din looks down at him. “It won’t be long.”

“But you might get hurt.” Kuiil looks up at him. “What if you get hurt?”

“I’m not going to get hurt,” Din says. “Everything will be okay.”

“Don’t lie,” Kuiil says. “You’re not supposed to lie.”

Din frowns at him. He straightens up and wraps both arms around Kuiil. “I’m not lying,” he says. “Not to you. Everything will be okay. We’re going to kill Gideon. Destroy what’s left of his remnant. Then, no one will ever be able to come after you again.”

Kuiil looks up and back at him, then sighs and slumps, his ears drooping. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispers. “Or Ari. Or  _ ba’vodu.  _ Or Luke. No one.”

“It’s something we have to do,” Din says. He strokes an ear, gently scratching. “To keep you safe.”

Kuiil frowns. “It’s… because of me.”

“Not just you.” Din pauses. “Gideon… he took everything. He destroyed our world. He slaughtered as many Mandalorians as he could. The ones who survived got lucky. And he took a sacred relic.” He feels his chest tighten. “He can’t have the Darksaber any longer.”

Kuiil frowns. “Why is it important?”

“It’s the symbol of our leader. Our  _ Mand’alor.” _

The boy looks up. “Mand… sole ruler.”

Din nods. “Sole ruler. It’s part of our Creed to answer the call of the  _ Mand’alor. _ To follow them.”

“But there’s no  _ Mand’alor. _ Just…  _ alor.” _

“Just our  _ alor,”  _ Din says. “Our matriarch. We haven’t had a  _ Mand’alor  _ since the Great Purge. And the Darksaber is a symbol of Mandalorian power. Gideon can’t wield it. So we have to take it back. Have a new  _ Mand’alor.  _ Reunite the Mandalorians that remain.”

Kuiil stares at his hands, then mumbles. “Re… unite?”

“Bring back together.” Din lets out a breath. “Together again. Like we once were.”

“Like Mandalore?”

“Right. Like Mandalore.”

Kuiil frowns, then looks up at Din. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asks.

“It will work,” Din says. “Without a doubt.”

Kuiil lets out a breath and just turns, throwing his arms around Din in the tightest hug he can muster. His arms don’t reach far, but it’s there all the same.

“Hey.” Din squeezes him. He rubs his back. “I’m going to come back. I promise you. Gideon doesn’t have a chance against us.”

Kuiil stares up at him, then just hides his face.

They sit in silence for several minutes, just close, until Din finally stands with him in his arms and lets the boy slump against his shoulder. He grabs his helmet and walks further into the ship, into the cool shade.

“Do you want to go back to Luke?”

Kuiil shakes his head. “Tired,” he mumbles.

Din adjusts him, then turns and walks to the cockpit, climbing up with the kid in one arm. He steps into the cockpit and settles down into the chair, looking out at the forest, and they just sit.

Then, there’s a rumble, and both look up through the shielding as another ship approaches from the sky. It hovers above the space, then lowers and lands beside the  _ Crest,  _ settling down. It’s smaller than the  _ Crest,  _ but its doors open and several Mandalorians step out. Amongst them are Paz and the Teros; Kuiil stands up tall with a squeak. “Ri!”

Din just gets up, scooping the kid into his arms again, and leaves the cockpit.

They climb down the ladder and walk through the cargo hold, stepping down the ramp and into the sunlight. Kuiil squirms and jumps onto Din’s pauldron, taking his spot there, as the Mandalorians come into view. They face each other.

Kuiil doesn’t hesitate, leaping from Din’s shoulder to Paz, managing to grab on to the wider pauldron there. Paz’s hands immediately come to catch him, but he hangs on just fine, and waves at Ari. Ari waves back.

“You’re early,” Din says.  _ “Alor  _ said you were coming in the next few days.”

“Intel came back earlier than we thought,” Paz says. “Karga’s coordinates are right. It’s a small town on Harova-II that they’ve buried in.”

“Townsfolk there are practically enslaved,” Griphin says. “Gideon’s low on troopers. They’re making the residents help with building whatever they need.”

“If you’re here, I presume there’s a plan put together.”

Paz nods. “We can tell both you and the jedi at the same time. If he’s here?”

“He is,” Din says. “In the castle.”

Kuiil has jumped onto Ari’s shoulder, and seems unconcerned about returning to Din. He turns, and with the Mandalorians at his back, begins the walk back towards Maz’s castle.

Paz is quick to come to his side. “The kid’s been fine with him?”

Din looks at him. “So far,” he says. “It’s strange. I don’t trust him and I don’t know what they’re doing. But it’s been… okay.”

Paz nods. “Good.”

The return walk to the castle isn’t far, the path well traveled by their own past trips, and Din leads them to the side door where they typically enter. Din opens the door, then steps into the cool darkness. The wall sconces light the way as they walk inside, heading down the hall towards the training room.

It’s only two turns until they return to the room, stepping through the doorway.

Luke is sitting on the bench but stands as he sees the Mandalorians walk in, all crowding into the room. They don’t waste time with greetings. Paz walks to the table in the center and places down a holographic disc, pressing a button for the saved hologram to pop up.

It’s the model of a town, with red lines running through the streets. Small, blinking red strobes are positioned in and around the town. A certain building blinks red.

“The base is on Harova-II,” Paz says. “We were able to put together this map from scouts. The red dots are stormtrooper positions, and they rotate every two hours. The building is where we believe Gideon’s headquarters to be.”

“How many troopers?” Din asks.

“Our estimate is around 50.” Paz looks at Din. “Make sure Dune knows 50 when you invite her.”

Din smiles.

Beside him, Luke lets out a breath, arms crossed as he stares at the map. “Thought this was over,” he mutters. “We won.”

The Mandalorians glance towards him. “It’s never been over,” Griphin says. “The Empire’s still around. The damn bureaucrats of the  _ New Republic _ just never cared enough to stop arguing and look.”

Luke looks at him, then back to the map without a word. Din watches him. He’s still white as a sheet, an unfocused look to him, with an occasional look towards Kuiil. He then clears his throat and reaches out, turning the map.

“I can bring a few of my students,” he says. “Some are capable of taking on something like this. They all have their own hate for the Empire.”

“Good,” Paz says, though he and Din share a look. He steps up to the map again. “Our plan is to take slip in through their defences as quietly as we can. Take out their guards and patrols with as much stealth as possible, cut down their numbers while we have the advantage. The alarm will be raised at some point. Better that we take out as many as we can before they rush us all at once.”

“How can you be sure that Gideon is actually there?” Luke asks.

“He pilots a tie fighter,” Din says, looking at Paz. “But we blew it out of the sky.”

“He’s got another,” Griphin says, amusement in his voice. “Bastard has his preference. I’ve seen the thing  _ and  _ him myself, and it’s still there. So he is, too.”

Luke stares at the map again.

Griphin steps up and gestures to the center of the town, where the red building flashes. “We presume this is Gideon’s headquarters. Things could change like they always do. It might be a different building. But if everything goes to plan, we’ll be able to check any damn building as we please until we find him.”

_ “If,”  _ Din mutters. “We act like everything is going to go wrong.”

Paz nods. “Prepared for anything,” he says. “For getting seen before we can even start. For having to fight our way through. Losing warriors. Gideon slipping away.”

Din’s stomach turns at the thought.

He’s elbowed in the side. Ari is looking at him, her arms crossed, Kuiil perched on her shoulder. “He won’t,” she says, her voice firm. “He’ll be there. We’ll kill him. He’ll never come after Kuiil again.”

“I hope,” Din mutters. He glances at Kuiil, whose smile has faded for a more serious expression as he looks at Din, then back to the map.

“Any questions, then?” Paz asks, looking around the room. “Concerns? We’ll have to play a lot by ear.”

The Mandalorians and jedi share looks, but no one speaks.

“Good,” he says. “We plan to leave in the morning so we’ll land on Harova--II during the night cycle with time to arrive at the compound on foot. From there, it’s all us.”

Luke steps back from the map. “I’ll contact my students,” he mutters, and he walks to the door, stepping out.

_ He’s being flighty,  _ Din thinks.  _ He’s  _ been  _ like that. _

“Din,” Paz says. “Could you--”

“Hold on,” Din mutters, and he steps to follow Luke out into the hallway.

The jedi doesn’t notice he’s followed, more focused on the communicator in his hands than Din, and Din gives him a brief tap on the arm to get his attention. Luke starts, stepping away from him with a hand going to his lightsaber before he sees Din and relaxes, sighing.

“Sorry,” he says.

Din frowns. “What’s wrong with you?”

Luke almost mirrors his own expression without seeing it. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting strange. You were strange this morning and more now.” Din stands in front of him. “What’s going on?”

Luke stares at him, then glances down at his communicator, fiddling with it for a moment before he crosses his arms. “I’ve been having dreams,” he says. “Some… disturbing ones.”

Din is quiet. “Visions?”

“I wouldn’t say visions.” Luke looks uncomfortable. “But… worrying anyway. About you and Kuiil. About your covert, and Gideon.”

Din tenses. “What about us?  _ Him?” _

Luke pauses, then sighs. “It’s the same thing,” he says. “Over and over. The details change, but…” He pauses again, like he’s searching for the words. “I’m always a witness to it. In my own body, watching. I’m always in a dark place, and I… hear things. Screaming, crying, sounds of agony. I manage to find it, and it’s… a small being with a red lightsaber, killing the Mandalorians.”

Din swallows.

“Kuiil,” Luke says, the tension thick between them. “His eyes are yellow and red, like a sith. He kills your Mandalorians like it’s nothing. There’s a person, a man, in a cloak who tells him to continue. Then, it’s… you. You’re the last. You try to talk to him, and he… stops to listen.”

He can’t move.

“You try to get him to stop, but he doesn’t. He never does. He kills you. Takes off some necklace he wears, says something in Mando’a. Then he leaves with the person.”

Luke takes a deep breath and Din just stares at him, his stomach turning. They’re silent, just standing.

“You think it was Gideon?” Din says.

“It could have been,” Luke says. “I don’t know enough myself to be sure. But it’s… this dream hasn’t left. Combining it with the influence Kuiil has had, it’s…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know.”

Din glances down the hall towards the room, then back to Luke. “What have you been finding in his mind?” he demands. “Or is it all useless so far?”

Luke looks up. “It hasn’t been… useless,” he says. “There are memories. But he’s so young in them that I’m getting more sights and sounds. Though…” he pauses. “There was one. He was playing with toys somewhere with people talking, but he didn’t know what it was about. And the furthest memory I could get had… well. Breathing, but… mechanical. Through a respirator.”

He’s near white as a ghost, again looking flighty. Din frowns. “Does that mean something?”

“It… explains, I guess.” Luke sucks in a breath. “Something. That breathing was… that was Darth Vader. The Emperor’s right hand. He used the Force choke on his enemies and was a force user, too.”

Din stares at him. “Did you know him?”

“... He was my father.”

“Oh.” He frowns. For a moment, he has no idea what to do with that information. “So… he could have picked that up from him.”

“He could have seen it,” Luke says, nodding. “He could have seen a number of things if he was in the Empire’s custody.”

Din frowns then, crossing his arms. “The Client who put the bounty on him wanted him dead or alive,” he says. “They were experimenting on him, or--I don’t know. It seemed like they wanted his DNA. If they had him before, why wouldn’t they have gotten it?”

“Thought they had more time? I don’t know.” Luke shakes his head. “The Empire was meant to stand for thousands of years. They would’ve been able to experiment things and still care for the child. Gideon and the Client might now have thought that they didn’t have the same kind of time. Better to just get a sample and get it done fast.”

Din lets out a breath. “There’s still so many questions.”

Luke looks at him. “Questions that only Kuiil can answer,” he says. “Unless you want to take Gideon as a prisoner and get what you can out of him.”

Din stares back. “No,” he says. “He dies.”

With that, he turns and walks back to the room, a deep unease in his stomach.


	2. The Sendoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s cut off by a crackle of static and the comms line jumps to life on Din’s visor. “Din,” a voice says. It’s Ari. “Everyone’s ready. Maz is here, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get these out fast to y'all! I'm working from home and bored out of my mind, and y'all must be too. And if you hadn't noticed, there's a new oneshot in the series called "Bits of Beskar" about Kuiil getting his first vambraces. Pure fluff and cuteness there, I promise.
> 
> Join the [Covert discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow my [tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/).  
> 

The next morning, Kuiil clings to him, resting on his chest as though he were a baby again. His claws are sunk in, even as he twitches and mumbles in his sleep, leaving holes in Din’s suit. Din watches the shadows move on the ceiling, restless and awake, a hand on Kuiil’s back. With every passing minute, sunlight creeps further and further into their room through the window, reflecting off his visor where his helmet rests.

When the child makes a soft  _ mmmph  _ and squirms before settling again, letting out a small huff of air, Din knows he’s awake.  _ “Vaar’tur,”  _ he says.

Kuiil makes an affirmative mumble.  _ “Haryc.” _

“You should get up.”

_ “Nayc.” _

“We’re leaving soon.”

Claws dig into him. Kuiil doesn’t react but for pressing down further into Din, ears folding down. Din traces circles on his back. “No,” he mumbles. “No.”

“No,” Din repeats.

“You can’t go.”

He smiles. He gently scratches, with one hand coming to stroke his ears, and the kid practically melts beneath it. “I don’t want to,” he murmurs. “I’d rather be here with you. But this is something that we have to do.”

Kuiil peers up at him, then hides again. “Stupid,” he says. “Stupid. Stupid  _ Mand’alor.” _

“Hey,” Din says, but there’s little reprimand in it. He wraps his arms around the kid and sits up, cradling him. The kid huffs. “You’ll understand how important this is when you’re older. That it’s in our Creed to protect the Mandalorians, and that means doing this.”

Kuiil stares up at him. “The Creed,” he says, softly, sadly, like he knows it can’t be argued with.

“This is the Way,” Din says.

“Th-this is…”

Kuiil’s eyes fill with tears, blinking them back, and Din’s stomach turns. He pulls the boy tight against his chest, and when a sob breaks out, the guilt is a knife through his chest. “D-Don’t go,” Kuiil cries, dissolving into trembles. He curls up as tight as he can against Din’s shoulder, his claws digging in. His presence in Din’s mind crashes against him in a wave of held-in misery and fear, enough that Din has to wince and focus on anything else.

Din can’t imagine how he could ever turn evil.

“Don’t go, don’t go, please, don’t go--”

_ Don’tgodon’tgodon’tgodon’tgo. _

Din squeezes him, breathless. “Kuiil,” he whispers, staring at the edge of the bed. “I promise you. I  _ promise.  _ I’m going to come back. I am.”

“Wh-what if--what if you--” He doesn’t finish, shaking, letting out another sob as his tears wet Din’s shirt.

“I’m  _ going  _ to come back.” Din rubs his back, then stands from the bed, beginning to pace. “We all are. I know what you’re afraid of. But it won’t happen.”

“You can’t  _ say--”  _ he stops to hiccup, pulling away enough to wipe at his face with his sleeve, smearing a mixture of tears and snot. “You can’t say… say that, you can’t, what if, what if--”

He doesn’t try to finish, just hiding his face in Din’s arms. Din lets out a breath, then sits on the bed again, overwhelmed by the emotions the kid is pushing on him. He holds him close and leans his chin on his head, one hand just rubbing his back.

Outside of their lended room, footsteps pass, the voices of Mandalorians gone by. Someone will come for them eventually, likely Paz, and ruin their bubble of safety. They have to leave eventually. The foundlings are being transported in, Cara picked up with them. Luke is returning with his chosen students. They need to leave soon to catch the night cycle on Harova-II.

When Kuiil begins to calm, still hiccuping but quieter, Din adjusts him. “Listen,” he murmurs. “We have to go soon. When we do, you--”

Kuiil breaks into another sob, a strangled noise.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Din holds him tight. “Listen.  _ Listen,  _ Kuiil.”

Kuiil quiets, still sniffing.

“We’re going to leave, but you’ll be here.” Din strokes his back. “The foundlings will be here. You need to keep them calm, because they’ll be scared too. We’ll be gone for a while but probably back in a day or two.”

They lull into silence. Kuiil finally looks up at him, a mess of snot and tears, before he rests his head on Din’s shoulder. Din gives his ear a gentle pinch that earns a smile, and Kuiil snuggles further into him.

“We’ll be okay,” Din promises. “We will. We’ll be back. And you’ll be safe. There won’t be anyone in the galaxy trying to take you from me.” He looks down at Kuiil, who looks up with watery eyes but a small smile.

_ “Oya manda,”  _ Kuiil says.

Din smiles.  _ “Oya--” _

There’s a knock at the door and Din looks up before he stands and reaches for his helmet, slipping it on. “Come in,” he calls.

The door opens and Paz stands there, fully armored as he looks at them. “Everyone’s here,” he says. “Let’s get going.”

“We’ll be there,” Din says, letting out a breath when Kuiil’s claws sink in deeper. The claws are blunt, not usually doing damage, but certainly painful. “In a minute.”

Paz nods, then turns and disappears, the door shutting again. Din pulls Kuiil away, met with whimpers, and sits him on the bed. “Let me get dressed,” he says, and Kuiil sniffles but doesn’t try anything.

Din starts on the pile of beskar on a chair, strapping on each piece until he’s underneath the usual weight. With his boots on and covered, his vibroblade and ammunition in place, he checks his blaster. Ready to go. He grabs his rifle and slings it over his chest, then turns to Kuiil.

The boy sits in place, hugging himself. He watches Din with tears in his eyes. Din frowns, then reaches over and grabs the small beskar vambraces. He takes a step and kneels down in front of Kuiil, holding them out. “Let’s go.”

Kuiil stares at him, then shakes his head. “No,” he whispers.

Din looks at him, puts the bracers in his lap. “Come on,” he says. “You come with me or I have to just leave you here.”

_ “Buir,  _ no!”

“Cara is here,” Din said firmly. “You haven’t gotten to see her in a long time.”

That’s enough for Kuiil to stop, and he stares at Din for a moment before he huffs and kicks his feet but grabs the vambraces. He clips them on, then holds his arms out.

Din scoops him up with one arm and walks to the door. Kuiil doesn’t try to climb, just rides, and they step out into the hallway. A group of Mandalorians walk past. Din adjusts him, then slips by them and towards the room they’ve taken for planning. He walks inside.

Paz, Griphin and Luke stand beside the hologram map, each studying it. Din looks past them to see Cara on the other side, going through her weapons with a fixed focus.

Din would simply walk over to greet her, but the kid beats him to the effort.  _ “Ba’vodu!”  _ he shrieks, drawing everyone’s attention. Din sighs.

Cara looks up and over, then smiles. She sets down her rifle and walks over, looking the same as always. “Hey, bean,” she says, reaching a hand out. Kuiil shifts on Din’s shoulder, then pounces, landing on Cara’s arm and climbing the rest of the way to her shoulder. He settles down there, curled up beside her neck, and she brings a hand to his back.

“Glad you two are back together,” Cara says.

“Yeah,” Din says, gaze drifting to Luke. He’s talking to Paz. “Have you talked to him?”

Cara glances over her shoulder, then shakes her head. “It’s… odd,” she says. “I’ve seen him before, but that was it.”

“Anyone talk about him?”

“Talented pilot. Blew up the Death Star. A crazy bastard.” Kuiil grumbles and she just gives him a smile and a quick “Sorry.” Then she looks to Din. “There were any number of stories, I don’t know how many true.”

Din sighs. “Well, he’s… been alright.”

“He’s  _ nice,”  _ Kuiil says.

“Yeah, you’ve said.”

Kuiil makes a face at him, huffing.

“You had all your Mando-kids on that transport to come along, so I assume you’re hiding them here?” Cara asks.

“It’s a precaution,” Din says. “We’ve had our current hideout for a while and Gideon chased us out of the last one. Better if we can keep them safe when we’re all gone.”

Cara nods. “Better to be paranoid now,” she says.

With the pause in conversation, Kuiil lets out a huff and shifts on Cara’s shoulder.  _ “Ba’vodu!  _ You missed, you missed  _ so much--” _

“Tell me all about it, bean,” Cara says, turning away as the kid launches into a stream of the latest gossip, about  _ Luke  _ and  _ ghosts  _ and--

Din smiles to himself, then feels a presence beside him and looks over. The Armorer steps into the room with little fanfare but it doesn’t go unnoticed. The conversations come to a pause and the Mandalorians all turn to look, standing quietly. The Armorer nods and they all relax.

She turns to look at Din. “You’ve been briefed?”

Din nods. “We’re ready,” he says.

“Good.”

Her gaze turns, sweeping the room, before it stops and lands squarely on Luke. He meets her gaze and the only sign of nervousness is the way his hand grips the edge of the table.

“This is the jedi?” she asks, particularly unimpressed. “Who stole a foundling?”

Luke shifts his weight, his face reddening. “A mistake I can only hope to atone for,” he says.

“Yes,” she says, and looks at Paz. Luke stares at her, then turns to the map. “The foundlings are accounted for. I believe everything is set?”

Paz nods. “We’re all accounted for here,” he says.

“Wait.” Din frowns. “You’re coming?”

The Armorer looks at him. A moment of silence passes before Din looks down, face heating.

“It is the call for every one of us,” she says. “Those who have taken the Creed all know it. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” they repeat.

Paz looks around the room at them all. “Final checks,” he says, authoritative and stern. “Weapons, ammunition. Armor should have been checked at the covert--we didn’t bring the forge with us.”

There’s a few light chuckles.

“We’ll leave within the hour,” he says. “Take the time now to be sure you’re prepared and then meet outside at the ships.”

He looks around. It’s silent.

_ “Oya.” _

_ “Oya!”  _ they all cry.

His armor is fine. There’s scratches and burn marks, it’s lost most of its brand new shine, but the beskar’s integrity holds strong. He gives it all a wipe down, then takes his blaster and triple-checks. It’s all fine. His disruptor charges are stored on his armor. His vibroblade is where it should be.

_ “Buir?” _

And his kid is right where he expects him to be.

Kuiil’s hands press against his knee, then he slips underneath and pops up between Din’s legs, looking up at the blaster.  _ “Buir,”  _ he whines, holding his arms up.

Din scoops him with one arm and sets him on his leg. Kuiil gets comfy, then watches him check the bolts. “You’re  _ all  _ leaving,” he says. “Everyone.”

“And everyone will be back.” He slips it back into his holster, then turns his attention on Kuiil. “Just like I told you,  _ cyar’ika.” _

Kuiil frowns, then leans forward. “I have a bad feeling,” he whispers.

“Bad feeling?”

“Like… like it’s not right. The Force isn’t happy.”

Din frowns. “The Force will be happy once we’re back,” he says. He takes Kuiil into his arms. “I promise, it’s okay.”

Kuiil sniffles. “But…”

He’s cut off by a crackle of static and the comms line jumps to life on Din’s visor. “Din,” a voice says. It’s Ari. “Everyone’s ready. Maz is here, too.”

“We’re coming,” Din says, and the line drops. Din stands, and there’s an immediate reaction from Kuiil. He sucks in a loud breath and he grabs onto his cuirass, sniffling.

“Wait,” he whimpers. “Wait--”

“We’re just going outside,” Din says.

Kuiil quiets down and Din cradles him as he walks out of the room. The hallway is quiet, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. All he can hear is his own feet and Kuiil’s sniffles, the kid’s presence weighing in his mind. He’s sad. Just  _ sad.  _ There’s a melancholic resignation there, like he’s accepted that he can’t change Din’s mind. Instead he just gets as close as he can manage, as though melting into the beskar.

_ “Gar kar’taylir darasuum,”  _ he whispers, his ears folded down.  _ “Gar kar’taylir darasuum.” _

Din begins to pet him, sliding his fingers over her ears and down his back. “I love you, too,” he murmurs. “I love you more than there are stars out there.”

Kuiil stares up at Din. “There’s so many stars.”

“Yeah. Even more than those.”

Kuiil stares at him, then nods and sniffles, looking down.

They step out into the warm air and sunshine, walking towards the parked ships, and Din steps through the bushes and grass and out onto the path. Ahead, he can see the gathered Mandalorians and jedi, all standing around. Maz stands among them, speaking to the Armorer and Cara. Din adjusts Kuiil, then walks up, and they all turn to see him.

Paz nods to him. “We’re going to fit as many as we can onto the  _ Razor Crest,”  _ he says. “It has the most room. We should get going.”

Din nods back. He crouches down, then loosens his hold on Kuiil. “You can go back with Maz,” he murmurs. “We’ll be back soo--”

“No.” Kuiil’s breath hitches, starting to come quickly, and his hold tightens. “No. No.”

_ “Ad’ika,”  _ Din says. He tries to pull him away but only feels claws dig further into him. “Kuiil. Let go.”

_ “No!”  _ Kuiil hyperventilates. Big tears fall, his eyes squeezed shut. His presence  _ floods  _ Din’s mind, claws sinking in there too, with a severity he hasn’t felt in years. Din sucks in a breath, wincing. “Nononononononononoooooo--”

“We already talked about this,” he says. “Kuiil. Please. You know I have to g--”

“NO!”

“Kuiil.” Paz steps up, placing a hand against Kuiil’s back.  _ “Vod’ad.  _ We have to--”

_ “NAYC!” _

Din doesn’t see what happens, but feels it, like a pulse that runs through his body in an instant. Everything around them is pushed away, disappearing behind a lifted cloud ring of dirt until it all settles again. Din looks up to stare. Everyone around them has been shoved back several feet, all left on the ground to get up.

Din looks down. Kuiil is burrowed into his shoulder, still hyperventilating as he hides his face in Din’s cowl. “You can’t,” he sobs. “You can’t go. You can’t. You c-ca--can’t  _ leave,  _ you can’t die, don’t die don’t die don’t--”

“I’m not going to die,” he says. “I promise. I  _ promise,  _ Kuiil, I--”

The kid is barely listening, muttering beneath his breath. His presence is so overwhelming that Din feels panic rise in him, beginning to shake, being  _ squeezed.  _ Like Kuiil is trying to take him over, take all the room he can, push Din out of his own mindspace. He tries to speak, but the words don’t come out, and he falls to his knees, bracing one hand against the ground to catch himself. 

_ Let go,  _ he thinks.  _ Please. This hurts. _

Kuiil only seems to cling tighter.

He forces himself to look up, panting, and sees Luke staring at him with a hand drifted towards his lightsaber. “Do… something,” he forces out, voice strained. He squeezes his eyes shut and curls in again. “Make him--make him  _ stop.” _

Luke steps forward, but there’s another  _ pulse  _ and he’s shoved backwards. Din swallows, gritting his teeth. He tries a shield, but it won’t even lift against Kuiil’s presence.

It feels like he’s losing his  _ mind. _

“K-- _ please--” _

Then, it begins to calm.

It’s slow but spreading. Kuiil’s presence lessens, calming, drawing back across Din’s mind and back into his own. The mental connection quiets. His hands relax, his entire body becoming still and peaceful and soon limp. Din looks down at him, still breathing heavy, and sees that his eyes are shut. The only sign of life is his heartbeat.

He looks up. Luke stands at the edge of their forcefield, a hand outstretched and looking strained. His hand falls and he takes a deep breath.

“He’s asleep,” he says. “Just asleep. It’ll last for a few minutes.” He swallows. “We should go.”

There’s a pause where the atmosphere only feels shaken. Din just stares down at Kuiil, his stomach turning.

There’s voices. They’re unimportant. Then a hand is on his arm, and he looks up at Maz, who stares at him through her glasses with sad eyes.

“Give him to me,” she says, her voice soft. She holds out her arms.

“That wasn’t the goodbye I wanted,” Din whispers. His chest feels tight. “That wasn’t--if I don’t see him again, that can’t be the last--”

“It won’t be the last,” Maz says, her voice firm. “You’ll come back. He’ll be waiting for you. It will all be okay.”

Din swallows. The Mandalorians are piling onto the  _ Crest,  _ but he can’t bring himself to move. His chest  _ hurts.  _ “I can’t…” he pauses. “I left him once when he was asleep, and…”

“Din.”

He looks up at Maz.

“He’ll understand,” she says. “He’s a child. He doesn’t understand now. But he will. If you succeed, he will grow up without the threat of Gideon over his head. You  _ have  _ to go.”

Din trembles. But he stares down at Kuiil’s face, runs a thumb over his cheek, then tentatively hands him over to Maz. She gathers the boy in her arms, then nods to him.

“Go,” she says.

Din gets up, and Maz steps past him, taking Kuiil out of sight.

His arm is grabbed, and Ari is at his side. “Let’s go,” she says, and her voice is gentle too. Din hates it. “He’ll be okay.”

They walk up and onto the ramp. The cargo hold is packed with as many that can fit, a few others taking the other ship. As soon as they’re aboard, the door panel is hit and the ramp begins to lift. There’s a whistle and there’s a dull roar as the engines come to life. Someone’s piloting. Din doesn’t care who.

He makes his way to a wall. They let him through. He slumps down onto a storage crate and just sits, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves.

His hands won’t stop shaking.

He focuses on his breathing.

The journey takes hours, and in a hot, crowded hold, it’s feeling claustrophobic. There’s a tension among all the Mandalorians, though whether it’s excited or anxious, Din can’t tell. It takes over an hour before he starts to feel well again, and nearly two before the guilt manages to lessen.

But it still eats at him.

Luke and his students are piled in with them--only three of them, plus their teacher, and they sit in a corner with their eyes closed for a time. Meditating, Din assumes. But eventually Luke gets up and makes his way over to Din, leaning against the wall beside him.

Din looks at him.

“Can I ask questions?” he asks.

Din frowns, then shifts. “Go ahead.”

“What’s in your Creed?”

“Our code,” Din says.

“But what does it say.”

Din shifts again. “It’s… loyalty,” he says. “To Mandalore. To this way of life. A promise to live it and protect it. To protect our children.” His stomach turns as Kuiil jumps to mind. “We take it at 14.”

“14,” Luke says. “It’s why you don’t take the helmet off?”

Din nods. “It’s our religion,” he says. “The Way of the Mandalore. We show our face, we break the Creed. You lose your soul. No longer Mandalorian.”

Luke nods. “I see. And the Darksaber. It’s a symbol of power?”

“Whoever wields the Darksaber leads the Mandalorians,” Din says. “Gideon stole it during the Purge. When we claim it, we can rally the rest of our people together.”

“So which of you is going to wield it?” Luke asks.

Din shrugs. “Likely our  _ alor,”  _ he says. “She’s led us since the Purge, anyway. It’s whoever claims it.”

“Your…  _ alor.” _

“Leader. Chief.”

“The one with fur?”

“Who talked to you earlier? Yes.”

“She’s… not really a talker.”

“You’re alive because of her,” Din says.

Luke looks at him.

“I had every intention of burning you alive for taking Kuiil,” Din says. “She ordered a  _ peaceful  _ resolution if possible. So you’re standing here right now.”

Luke pauses, then nods, looking pale. “Alright.”

The conversation stops there, and after a few moments of silence, Luke simply returns to his students, and Din doesn’t mind the newfound silence. He focuses on the spot between his feet and tries to calm his stomach.

Then, the ship lurches as they enter an atmosphere.

There’s a collective intake of breath from everyone, tensions high. Din glances across the hold to see Cara looking back at him, and she gives him a nod. He returns it.

_ This is it. _

After a few more minutes, the  _ Razor Crest  _ hovers and then begins to land, lowering until it settles against the surface. For a moment, everything is still, and then the door opens and the ramp extends.

Their numbers begin to move out, just as the second ship lands.

They spread out. They’re in a clearing in a jungle, the wildlife loud around them, with screeching birds and restless animals. The moons shine above, providing some light, but most turn on their helmet lights.

There’s restless energy everywhere. The Teros stand together, each ready as they check over their weapons. Paz and the Armorer are talking. Luke is speaking to his students with the hand motions of one explaining something intricate. Din takes a deep breath, then walks to the front and finds Cara, standing beside her.

“I’m ready for this to be done,” he says.

Cara glances at him, then nods. “It’s been a long time coming,” she says. “You and that kid need to rest.”

Din takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you now,” he says, and she looks at him again, “I call the death blow.”

Cara breaks into a smile. “You’ll have to beat me to it,” she says.

_ “Mando’ade!”  _

Paz is facing the group. He gestures in a direction.

_ “Taabir.  _ We need to keep the darkness as cover. Move fast, keep checking that your comms work. Stealth is critical for cutting down their numbers.  _ Suvarir?” _

_ “Elek,”  _ comes the response.

“Alright.” Paz glances at them. “Let’s go.”

They begin their march.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Vaar'tur - morning  
> Haryc - tired  
> Nayc - no  
> Oya manda - emotional expression of Mando solidarity  
> Oya - "let's hunt", "cheers", etc. A jubilant cry.  
> Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart  
> Gar kar’taylir darasuum -- I love you  
> Vod'ad - niece/nephew, lit. child of sibling  
> Mando'ade - sons/daughter of Mandalore  
> Taabir - march  
> Suvarir - understood  
> Elek - yes
> 
> Join the [Discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow my [tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	3. The Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din doesn’t have time to process before stepping into the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins. Just note the 'graphic depictions of violence' tag. 
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

Kuiil stares out the window at the forest, his arms crossed on the sill and his chin resting on the beskar vambraces. The trees sway with the breeze and he can see the water of the river ripple. While it is the picture of serenity, his stomach is unsettled and constant tears prick in the corner of his eyes.

“Kuiil.” Behind him, Maz sighs, and a hand settles on his back. “You can’t do this.”

“I’m waiting,” he says. “To know they’re back. As soon as they’re back.”

“You’ve been here every time I come down and it’s been hours. It’s going to take much longer than that for them to come back.” Maz squeezes his shoulder. “Sitting and waiting will make it seem much longer than it is. If you let yourself be distracted, it would go faster and they’d be back before you know it.”

He can hear laughter from the other room. The foundlings have found the excitement to play even as they wait, but Kuiil shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles.

“At least be sure you eat,” Maz says, more stern. “Your father will throw a fit if you weren’t fed.”

“I don’t  _ want it.” _

He shifts but doesn’t get up. Maz is quiet, then he hears her get up. “Food and your friends are there,” she says. “He will still come back if you leave this window, little one.”

Kuiil doesn’t respond.

He hears Maz leave, the door opening and closing softly. He shifts a little more at the window—his stomach growls, but he doesn’t want to eat. He feels too sick. His stomach is turning about, he feels awful all over, and…

His heart  _ aches. _

Tears spring to his eyes again, a lump in his throat, and he buries his face in his vambraces before the first sob escapes. It’s quiet and muffled, but it hurts his chest. He sniffs and curls in as tightly as he can.

He can’t reach out. His  _ buir  _ and Luke are so far away now that he can’t find them.

What’s the point in playing when his entire world just left on a ship?

“Kuiil. Kuiil!”

Broedy and Shaeh run up beside him, looking excited. “Come play!” Shaeh says, giggling, holding Broedy’s hand. “Come on come on!”

Kuiil glances at him. Another time, he would’ve jumped at the invitation. He would’ve already  _ been  _ playing. But now he blinks back his tears and shakes his head, looking outside again.

Shaeh frowns, but only turns and walks back to the room, accepting the answer. Broedy, though, toddles closer and holds a hand out. He grabs onto Kuiil’s tunic and holds it.

“Okie?” he asks. “You’re okie to-to play?”

Kuiil sniffles. “N-No,” he says, and he wipes at his eyes. “I want my  _ buir.” _

_ “Bu,”  _ Broedy says, almost solemn, understanding.  _ “Bu.”  _ He lets go of Kuiil but wanders to the other side of the chair, reaching up. He tries to climb, but he’s too little, and can’t quite reach. He lets out soft whimpers, noises that threaten to turn into tears.  _ “Up--” _

Kuiil holds a hand out and lifts him up and onto the couch. Broedy coos, satisfied, and crawls over to sit beside Kuiil. He leans on the window sill, staring out at the tree.

“Pity,” he whispers, eyes big. “Pity.”

Kuiil sniffles again, his tears growing stronger and the lump in his throat thicker. Broedy waits for Paz like he waits for Din, but the toddler doesn’t  _ know,  _ not like Kuiil has to know. There’s no Force bond between them. Kuiil wipes at his tears, breathless.

Broedy looks up at him, then turns and tucks himself into Kuiil’s side. He’s warm, still staring out at the trees, and there’s drool on his chin. But he cuddles against Kuiil and stays there, blowing a raspberry, content.

Then a ship approaches.

Kuiil looks up straight away, joy beginning in his chest, but it fades. It’s not the  _ Razor Crest.  _ It’s not the covert’s ship. He slumps down against the window sill, letting out a soft sigh. Ships come and go all the time from Takodana, mercenaries and hunters and all sorts of people coming through. He can’t get excited over every ship that passes by.

Broedy watches him, then settles. His hands find the strings of Kuiil’s tunic and he begins to fiddle with them. Kuiil lets him, his eyelids becoming heavy, watching the trees.

Then, people emerge from the trees, wearing all black.

He watches sleepily. Mercenaries, he guesses. Maybe a group of hunters. He isn’t sure. He doesn’t really care. Sometimes, when his  _ ba’vodu  _ Paz takes him to Takodana, they sit upstairs and watch the people go by, guessing who they are and what they’re there for. It’s always been a fun game, their observations hidden in Mando’a.

But the mercenaries… don’t usually carry guns in their hands. Or wear sleek black armor.

It pulls at a memory as they approach. He’s seen people like that before, but he can’t remember why or where. But there’s a mechanical way to how they walk together, weapons held.

One hold something out, and he can hear the beeping. He straightens, eyes wide, and feels himself freezes with fear.

Then, he disappears off the chair, pulling Broedy with him.

The town is bigger than Din anticipates, but not terribly so. It’s lit by torches rather than artificial lighting. On Paz’s command, they split and begin to spread around the edges of the jungle, still hidden within the trees but each setting up near a duo of stormtrooper guards.

“Hey.” A hand taps his arm, and he looks down at Ari, who’s crouched down beside Griphin. “Good luck.”

“You too,” he says, and he steps to follow Paz.

They find a spot between two massive tree trunks and sit there against the wood. The night creatures are loud in their buzzing. Din leans back against a tree and puts a foot up against the opposite to balance. “Calm before the storm,” he mutters. Through night vision, he can see the stormtroopers on guard.

“Sure is.” Paz taps on his controls.

Din bites his lip. “What happened with Kuiil,” he says. “It just… feels wrong.”

Paz glances up. “What else could you have done?” he asks. “He’ll be miserable when he wakes up but there’s nothing to do about it. He needed to let you go. We need you for this.”

He frowns. “Every time I start to do something right, it goes wrong.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” Paz says. “Look, my  _ ade  _ weren’t sorcerers and were older when they became foundlings, anyway. No one here knows how to raise Kuiil. Maybe the  _ jetii.  _ But you get it right a lot more than the wrong.”

Din sighs.

Paz hits a button and holds it. “Guards are about to switch,” he says. Din hears it in his own helmet. “Be ready to slip in. Remember, stealth for as long as possible. Tell us immediately if your cover is blown.”

There’s a soft chorus of affirmative responses, then silence. Din shifts, crouched down on his heels, ready to spring up and run. The two stormtroopers are barely paying attention.  _ Ready to get off duty. _

Paz adjusts. Din glances over, eyes drawn to the machine gun in his hands, and Paz looks at him. “Admittedly, I’m not one for stealth,” he says. “I assume you  _ might _ be able to handle two troopers on your own?”

Din rolls his eyes. “Sure.  _ I’ll  _ do the work.”

Paz gives him a shove. “I’ll be the one to cut Gideon’s throat,” he says. “Might as well give you some action now.”

“Get in line—“

_ “Do you two realize we can all hear you?” _ Zhith snaps. “Di’kutla. _ Turn off your comms.” _

Din and Paz stare at each other as laughter bursts out on the line from several Mandos. It’s muted by the sounds of the jungle, but loud in their helmets. Din’s face is red as he slowly reaches up and switches off the comms.

They calm down. Eventually.

Another minute passes before the stormtroopers move. Din watches them as they lower their guns and begin to walk away—their replacements haven’t come but boredom leads to carelessness. Din tenses.

“Now,” Paz mutters.

Din launches himself forward, vaulting over a tree root and hitting the ground running. To the sides, he can see other Mandalorians do the same as the guards change. There’s a door ahead that he sprints for, and upon reaching it, he hits the button to open and slips inside. It closes behind him and he’s surrounded by black. He crouches down in the shadows, his heart racing in his chest.

“Good,” Paz says. “Just wait. They’re coming now. Blade only.”

Din slides his vibroblade from his boot and switches it on.

There’s voices outside. Muffled but bored, a loud sigh coming through. He stands up and reaches a hand towards the door controls, hovering just over the button. He waits, his own breath loud in his ears. “Paz?”

“Either side of the door. Do it.”

Din slams the button and the door opens.

There’s a trooper to his left and right. Just as they turn to see him, he slams his heel into the back of one trooper’s knee, sending him to the ground, and turns to grab the other’s shoulder. He slides the vibroblade straight into his neck beneath the helmet, earning a muffled scream that chokes out as he twists the blade and pulls.

The trooper collapses to the ground.

“HEY!” the other shouts as he gets up, pulling his blaster around. “Mando  _ scum—” _

Din drops the blade and palms the front of the blaster to the side as his other forearm slams against the trooper’s, twisting his arms, and the trooper hisses as the gun is dropped. He launches forward, lowering his shoulder into Din, and Din lets out a choked breath as he’s shoved back to the ground. He drags his knees up and plants his feet against the trooper’s armor, shoving him off with as much strength as he can manage, and the trooper grunts as he’s sent onto his back.

Din gets up, snatches the vibroblade off the ground, and slams it into the trooper’s helmet through the visor. It cracks as the trooper screams and Din twists, cutting it off.

He takes a deep breath, then sits back and pulls the blade out, the vibrations shaking off droplets of blood. He switches it off and wipes it on the grass, then switches on his comms. “Clear here,” he says.

_ “Clear.” _

_ “Clear!” _

_ “Done.” _

_ “Clear.” _

_ “Good.” _

Paz’s voice is both in his helmet and beside him. Din feels a hand clap on his back for a moment before he turns to look, and Paz is walking past him into the building, his gun in his hands. Din follows.

_ “Al’verde. Where are we working towards?” _ Thara asks.

“Keep moving inward,” Paz says. “Gideon’s HQ is in the center. We’ll meet up before we go in.”

_ “Copy that.” _

Din and Paz move to the door on the other side and stand on either side, tense and ready. Din grips his blade as Paz takes his own. Din reaches for the door panel and hits the button.

It opens into a courtyard full of troopers, standing around. They all turn at once. Din counts at least fifteen of them, relaxed until they spot Paz and Din and bring up their blasters.

_ “Cover is blown!”  _ someone shouts. It sounds like Griphin. Through the link, there’s the sound of blasters, and he can hear it in the distance.

“Right,” Din mutters, before he slams the button again and the door shuts. It’s hit with a wave of blaster bolts, pelting against the metal. He switches his blade for his blaster. “New strategy?”

“The new strategy is massacre,” Paz says. “Throw a charge.”

Din reaches to his belt and pulls off a timed charge, pressing a button to arm it in his hand. He opens the door and tosses it out, letting it roll and stepping out of the way of more bolts. The shots stop in favor of alarmed yelling.

It blows, shaking the ground. Then Paz steps out, hefting his gun into his hand, and unleashes a wave of blaster fire at the scattered troopers.

Din crouches down at his side to shoot, ducking under the heat of the gun to fire his own blaster. A bolt catches him by the pauldron but he only flinches and returns it, the stormtrooper falling with a scream. The rapid fire of the machine gun slaughters the troops with ease, leaving scorch marks in the stone of the otherwise beautiful courtyard.

_ “Charge in!” _ Griphin yells.  _ “Consolidate!” _

With the last trooper dead, Din slips out from behind Paz and runs for the gateway leading in. Paz follows. They exit into a maze of streets, but he chooses the right and takes off towards the nearest blaster fire. Two troops come running and Din shoots them down without stopping. He grabs his blade to hold in his other hand, holding himself low as they move.

_ “Where are they coming from—” _

_ “Damn it!” _

_ “Get down! Ji’an, get down—” _

“Gayiyla!”

There’s another gateway ahead and they run through only to find chaos.

The center of the town is a wide circle with a fountain in the center, and it’s full of both troopers and Mandalorians. Blasters fire or one is wrestling the other to the ground. Some with jetpacks have flown onto roofs to have the vantage point as they fire into the crowds of white armor. There’s screams and blood and bodies on the ground. Lightsabers flash through the air in twirls of color.

Din doesn’t have time to process before stepping into the fight.

A death trooper is the first to grab him but he slams his elbow into their helmet and fires a blast into their throat, turning to kick his heel into another trooper. His blade slams into their chest through the armor. Beside him, Griphin has his hands locked with a death trooper’s, a knee slammed against his codpiece. He leans over with a groan.

Din steps behind the trooper and grabs their arms, pulling them back in a bind. Griphin looks up as the trooper struggles against him, then pulls his blade and slashes it across their throat, and the trooper falls limp.

Din drops their body and looks at Griphin, who’s panting as he rolls his shoulders back. “Thanks,” he mutters. “You seen my  _ ade?” _

“Just got here,” Din says. “Ari’s probably in the thick of it.”

_ “Jare,”  _ Griphin sighs. “Hopefully this mess brings Gideon to us.”

“Hopeful—”

A shot fires between them, barely missing the armor, and both turn on their heels to bring up their blasters. But the trooper facing them is suddenly dragged backwards and a green lightsaber bursts through their chest. They scream, then collapse, and Luke stands behind them. He gives them a nod.

They nod back.

He turns away.

“Good luck,” Griphin says. “And you should get the death blow.”

He turns and disappears into the crowd, and Din smiles to himself before doing the same.

Stormtrooper bodies cover the pavement to where Din has to jump over them. There are Mandalorians among them, but it makes his stomach turn so he tries not to focus on the bodies. His chest is struck by a bolt, sending him stumbling back, but he pulls his blaster and fires, taking down the trooper. Another swings at him and he blocks the baton with a vambrace, kicking out and sending them back. He fires two bolts into them. When another trooper tries to shoot, he misses by inches and Din turns.

He thrusts out his vambrace and unleashes a stream of fire. The trooper drops his blaster and screams as he catches fire, collapsing to his knees. He continues to scream as he burns. Din looks to the side.

Quickly, he spots Cara against two death troopers, slamming one down to the ground. She turns to the other and blocks a punch, then brings her forearm down on theirs, forcing them to bend. She sweeps out their leg and stomps on their throat, then lifts her blaster and shoots them dead.

She looks over and they both step towards each other. “They keep coming,” she mutters. “It’s like they’re pouring out of everywhere.”

Din looks around, the violence dancing around them but not near. “We need to find Gideon,” he says. “We’re getting too caught up here. The bastard must--”

Then there’s a moving shape over Cara’s shoulder and he stops short, staring. Cara turns and tenses up as well.

Across the courtyard is their target building, and on the steps stands Moff Gideon, flanked on either side by death troopers. Din hits his zoom function. He’s scanning the battle with a furious gaze, looking murderous as he takes it in.

Then he turns and looks straight at Din, his expression worsening. He pulls a blaster from his side.

Din unclasps his rifle and swings it around, setting it in his hands faster than he ever has before, and he looks through the scope. He flicks off the safety. Finds Gideon in the crosshairs. His finger closes around the trigger, his heart pounding and his mind a blur, just one fucking squeeze and it’s over—

A weight slams into him and sends him sprawling to the ground. Cara is on top of him and quick to push up and off, sitting back. He looks up. Her shoulder is smoking, and a blaster bolt took out a chunk of the pauldron, but he can’t see skin. She looks more alarmed than hurt.

“Save that for a better shot,” she mutters. She stands and holds a hand out to him. “Let’s go.”

Din grabs her hand and gets to his feet.

Two more troopers come running at them but they’re dispatched easily. Looking around, the center is far more cleared of white and black armor, and Din’s shoulders begin to feel lighter. He turns his gaze to Gideon and takes off at a sprint, feeling Cara just at his side. They have to leap over bodies but he’s far too determined to care.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ari and Jaylen double-teaming a trooper. On the other side, Zhith and Hock take down their own hostiles while he can still hear Paz’s gun firing. But he shoves those out of focus.

Gideon doesn’t move. There is almost,  _ almost  _ an expression of concern on his face. He locks eyes with Din. For a moment, nothing else matters.

And it goes to hell in an instant when Ari launches at Gideon, blade and blaster in hand, Jaylen just a step behind her.

_ No,  _ Din thinks.

A blaster shot buries itself in the wall, followed by another. A death trooper steps down and grabs Jaylen by the shoulders, slamming a fist across his helmet that sends him falling back, while Ari goes straight for Gideon himself. She lunges with her vibroblade, but Gideon parries the swing and steps out of the way. His foot stays out and he shoves her over it, sending her in a crash against the stone stairs.

For a second, she doesn’t move, and Din fumbles for his disruptor.  _ No, no, no,  _ he thinks, raising it to his shoulder. There’s blood on his scope,  _ damn it,  _ he can’t risk a stray shot—

Ari’s arm is grabbed and she’s wrenched up, onto the steps in front of Gideon, kneeling unevenly on the stairs, his grip on her arm tight. She struggles against it until there’s a  _ chhhh  _ and a thrumming noise. In Gideon’s other hand, the Darksaber bursts to life, held to her throat.

A cold chill runs down Din’s spine and slowly, he lowers the rifle. Gideon stares back at him, expression furious, as all the Mandalorians and troopers come to a stop. A horrified hush falls over them all.

“No.” It’s Griphin’s voice.  _ “No.” _

Din stares into the black of the saber. He watches its pure dark color, the blackest thing he’s ever seen, and the way light follows its edge when it moves. It’s almost enchanting. He’s frozen in place with a combined sense of wonder, awe, and gut-wrenching horror.

In another moment, he would have admired it.

“Din Djarin.” There’s a hiss in Gideon’s voice.

“Moff Gideon.” He responds with the same vitriol, still gripping his rifle. “Let her go.”

“Why should I?” Gideon smiles. It sends another shiver down Din’s spine. “If you care about this one’s safety, then you’ll stay where you are. And believe me, all I need is time.”

“Time,” Paz says, his voice a snarl. “Time for  _ what?” _

Gideon glances at him, but keeps his unsettling smile. “Why, to have what I’ve been searching for all these years,” he says. “Your attempts to hide the child from me have been impressive, but you’ve  _ simply _ taken the wrong bet.”

“You don’t know where he is,” Din snaps. “He’s  _ safe.” _

“You didn’t follow a rigid schedule when you took him to Takodana,” Gideon says.

Din falls silent.

“To be taught by Maz Kanata, I presume? And now, Luke Skywalker.” Gideon glances at Luke for barely a moment. Ari fights against his grip, but the Darksaber hovers closer to her neck. “His control over his abilities will make things simpler.”

“Spies,” Cara hisses beside Din. “He must have spies at Maz’s castle.”

Din can’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. His heart is threatening to burst out of his chest. He can’t  _ breathe  _ as though his lungs have been twisted around.  _ He knows,  _ he thinks.  _ He’s known the entire goddamn time. _

“My death troopers will have landed on Takodana just hours after you left,” Gideon says. “I have the confidence that they’re already returning with the child. I’ll have my prize  _ and  _ some more helmets to add to the collection.”

The Mandalorians are silent. There’s only the hum of lightsabers and the crackling of the fires.

Gideon smiles. “Lay down your weapons and surrender,” he says. “And this one can go without a scratch.”

“No!” Ari hisses. “You ca—”

The Darksaber is brought closer, making contact, and Ari screams—a gut wrenching sound before it’s taken away. 

“Stop!” Ali’i cries, heartbreak in her voice. “She’s a  _ child.” _

“Put. Your weapons. Down.” Gideon’s voice has a smile in it and Din feels sick.

“Let go of her first!” Griphin snaps, stepping forward, enraged. “I will wring your  _ neck  _ if you hurt her one more—”

“Oh, I think I can do better than that,” Gideon says.

He lets go of her, but his hand comes to the edge of her helmet instead, gripping. In an instant, it’s lifted off, and tossed without a care.

It clatters down the steps.

_ “No!” _

Din looks away on instinct, anywhere but at the bare face of another Mandalorian. He hears everyone take a collective breath in. Ali’i sobs. It’s pointless. So he looks up.

“Stars,” Cara whispers.

Ari has grown much since the day she took the Creed. Her hair is cut short and messy from the helmet, sticking to her skin with sweat, eyes full of tears as she looks back at her parents and then Din. She takes a shuddering breath.

Din feels sadness and grief and  _ rage. _

He’s going to be sick.

Gideon raises the Darksaber. The light follows its edge. Din watches, and like every other Mandalorian, tenses, he jerks up his disruptor, running a thumb over the scope to clear the blood, aiming for Gideon--

The Darksaber flashes and Ari screams, but then Gideon flies back and slams against the building doors, hitting the ground with a groan. It’s so fast that Din can only stare.

Ari holds her shoulder and stumbles down the steps, letting out a sob, and Ali’i and Griphin are there, dragging her into their arms. Din turns to see Luke lowering his arm, reigniting his lightsaber.

Gideon begins to get up. The Darksaber is still gripped in his hand. “Kill them,” he snarls, and the troopers around them stiffen, raising their blasters. “Kill them all.”

Then he turns, opens the doors, and storms inside the building. More stormtroopers flood out through the doors in his place, and it all launches into chaos once again.

The Mandalorians are encircled, shaken, Gideon’s words and Ari’s dishonor leaving them all reeling. What seemed like a turning tide now seems to Din like a false victory. Lightsabers cut through plastoid and beskar holds against blaster bolts but the troopers close in, pressing them together, backs bumping. Din’s heart pounds, Gideon’s voice in his head.

_ Stormtroopers on Takodana. Maz won’t be ready. None of them will be ready. _

He fires his disruptor at point-blank range and the trooper disintegrates in a faded scream, another troop lunging but Din pulls his vibroblade and slams it through the visor. He grabs another and holds them. Cara fires into their throat before Din shoves them aside. Two more press in. He throws his vambrace out, shoots a wave of fire.

It fizzles out too soon.

“Din!” Paz’s voice is in his helmet. “We have to find Gideon.  _ Now.” _

“There’s too many here,” Din hisses, kicking out at another. “More than fucking fifty, that’s for sure!”

“We’ll hold them.” It’s the Armorer’s voice now, and Din turns to look but he can’t see her.  _ “Al’verde, ver’alor,  _ go with Skywalker. Kill the  _ demagolka. _ Now!”

“Go,” Cara growls, strained as she slams her elbow into a trooper. “Go, Din. He’s the Imp you need to care about. We’ll be okay.”

Din lets out a breath. Paz’s hand comes to his pauldron, pulling him, and he slams his blade into a trooper’s chest one last time before he turns into the pull. Paz nods to him.

“Luke!” Din yells. The jedi turns, his lightsaber still in a stormtrooper’s chest. “Let’s go!”

Luke nods and pulls the blade out.

More soldiers stand in their way but they only slam through, forcing their way past, and take off at a sprint. They dash up the stairs and into the building, into the darkness.

The lights are dimmer here. The sounds of the battle fade behind them, nothing but the sound of their feet and their breathing and the hum of Luke’s lightsaber as they run. The hall opens into a circular room with several doors. There’s shadows all around them.

_ “Haar’chak!”  _ Paz scowls. He brings a hand to his helmet and looks around at the floor. “There’s too many damn tracks.”

Din pants, looking around, sweat clinging to his skin beneath his suit. “We can’t split,” he says. “That’s not going to work. We can’t--”

“Stop. Be quiet,” Luke says. They stop. He takes a slow step, looking around, his breathing even as two hands shift to his lightsaber. “... Someone’s coming.”

It’s dead silence. Din and Paz look at each other. The sounds of the battle are distant.

Then, Luke whips around and throws the lightsaber in an upward block, just as the Darksaber comes arcing down to meet it, and the blades bite into each other with furious hissing. Doors fly open around them, and they’re surrounded by death troopers.

“Where,” Paz hisses, “do they keep  _ coming  _ from?”

“Just fight!” Din snaps as the room bursts into blaster fire.

Death troopers are good fighters. Supposedly  _ talented  _ for a stormtrooper, though that’s not saying much, they’re certainly more capable. But against desperate Mandalorians, they’re immobile. Slow. It was sheer numbers and technology that overwhelmed Mandalore.

As they kill the troops one by one, it feels something like justice.

_ No E-web this time, fuckers. _

Luke and Gideon are relentless with each other, their sabers clashing together in brilliant displays of light. Luke is comfortable, at ease with using the weapon, a familiarity in every step. He’s defensive, stepping backwards with every slash Gideon throws, but he blocks every swing like he already knows the pattern. They clash again, holding it, both pushing on the other.

Din can’t help but just  _ watch. _

Luke throws off the lock and backs up further, holding himself low, face full of focus. Gideon scowls at him, then throws another.

Luke shoves it aside, then ducks in, his own blade arcing towards Gideon’s middle. He slashes against it, and Din lets out a breath, ready to drop with relief, yes,  _ finally, fucking finall-- _

The lightsaber doesn’t cut through. It steams, burns, hissing as it digs into metal. But it doesn’t go deeper. Luke stares at the spot, eyes wide, before he looks up. “What--”

Gideon smirks and slams his knee between his legs and a fist across his face. Luke stumbles back, his lightsaber dropping from his head, and just groans.

_ Beskar.  _ Of course the bastard wears beskar. The tornado of rage inside Din is so strong that he can’t breathe.

He can’t react before hands grab him, pull him back. His leg is swept out and he hisses as his back hits the floor, two troopers fighting to pin him, to grab hold of his arm. He scowls and fights against it, reaching to trigger his flamethrower, but it only sputters like before. His blaster is knocked from his hand, he can’t reach his knife.

Out of desperation, he throws his other arm up, punching a hand aside, and deploys his grappling hook. It wraps around a trooper’s throat, hooking onto itself, and Din  _ pulls,  _ dragging him over and into his comrade. Both tumble to the ground.

Din struggles to his knees, then looks over. Luke is getting to his hands and knees, reaching out to his lightsaber as two death troopers approach him, one making the run for the lightsaber first. He looks to the side.

Paz is on the ground. Still. Unmoving.

“Paz,” he breathes. “Paz.  _ Paz--” _

Hands seize his cape and wrench him over onto his back. A trooper is on top of him, straddling his waist, a punch thrown into the face of the helmet that jerks his head to the side. He shoves at their body, straining to get up, to push them off.

Hands seize the rim of his helmet.

_ No,  _ he thinks, and his hands fly to their wrists to pull down. His body throbs with adrenaline, his heart racing, hopelessness threatening to burrow into his bones even as he fights it. The hands drop to his neck instead, tightening around his throat, squeezing.

The trooper pulls him off the ground, then slams him back down. Then a second time, and a third time.

The impact runs through his body again and again, a screaming ache in his head, his struggle going weaker as he strains for air. Darkness creeps into his vision.

He  _ fights.  _ Squirms as hard as he can, pulls and pushes with as much strength as he can manage, but the darkness grows. He’s slammed against the ground again. He can’t formulate a thought, can’t speak. His grip loosens.

_ But I told him I’d come back. _

With another slam, it all goes black.

Luke slashes through another trooper, anxiety twisting in his stomach, their body splitting in two as he turns and stabs through another. He can’t say that the sight of the white and black armor doesn’t give him chills that he can’t shake off.

He turns and Force-shoves the trooper on top of Din, sending them flying back against the wall. They hit it with a groan. Then he drags them close, within reach, and lunges forward to slash through their armor.

They’re the last. Luke looks at the Mandalorians, both lying still in the ground. He doesn’t have time.  _ They  _ don’t have time. Gideon’s gone.

He takes off down the hallway after the Moff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Jetii - jedi  
> Di'kutla - stupid, useless  
> Al'verde - commander  
> Gayiyla - everywhere  
> Ade - children  
> Jare - kamikaze; someone taking a foolish, fatal risk  
> Ver'alor - lieutenant  
> Demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, war crimes, and a criminal. Named for 'Demagol', a Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic who experimented on children and is a figure of fear in Mando psyche.  
> Haar'chak - damn it!
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


	4. The Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembered hearing about the Purge of the Mandalorians, an entire warrior people brought low by the hand of the Empire. He hadn’t felt much sympathy then, not out of any hostility but _distance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's holding up well! Quarantine is hard, not just on finances but social lives and mental health. Take care of yourselves, lovelies. For the same reasons, this chapter didn't really want to be written, but I fought it and _won._
> 
> Fun links:  
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send asks about anything.

His heart is pounding and hot tears threaten to roll down his face. Pulling Broedy behind him, he shoves open the door with the Force and bursts into the next room, full of foundlings, all turning to stare at him.

_ “Beroya’e!”  _ he whimpers.  _ “Aruetiise!” _

The foundlings all stop, and those who are sitting jump to their feet. Hilla is the oldest among them and her hand drifts to the blaster at her hip. “Where?”

Kuiil points behind him. “Outside,” he says, before there’s a  _ bang  _ from down the hallway. The side doors of the castle rattle, surely held by the lock, but he flinches. “Trackers!”

They all stare at him before a moment, but Hilla turns.  _ “Haaranovor!”  _ she snaps, turning to the rest, and the command is enough for the foundlings to scatter. With practiced ease, they slip beneath and behind furniture in either room, and Kuiil looks around with tear-filled eyes, shaking.

He can’t hide. He knows he can’t. Not from tracking fobs. When  _ buir  _ hunts he always gets the target. He always brings them back. He can’t bring himself to move.

There’s another  _ bang  _ from down the hall.

“Kuiil.” Hilla crouches down in front of him and scoops up Broedy. “Go get Maz. Tell her.”

Kuiil stares at him.

“Go!”

From down the hall comes a blast and Kuiil looks over his shoulder with a whimper. Hilla gives him a push, sending him stumbling, and he breaks out of the trance. He looks back to see her disappear into another room, then hears the voices and pounding footsteps.

His heart is going to burst out of his body, he thinks. He runs from the room and towards the stairs, going as fast as his legs can manage before he trips over his own feet. His head cracks against the floor and he lets out a whimper, tears falling as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“There!”

The voice echoes down the hall and he turns over, staring at the other end where the black-armored troopers stand. There’s a familiarity to it that he can’t remember. But in an instant he gets to his feet and runs up the stairs, the adrenaline flowing.

He bursts into the bar upstairs. It’s loud and crowded, music playing throughout with so many huge people walking about that he can’t see at all. “Maz!” he yells, but barely anyone looks down at him. He looks around, then darts to the side and towards the tables. He slips by legs and feet, jumping past people walking, and reaches out desperately for Maz.

But he can’t focus.

“Maz!”

He knows she’s here, but he just can’t push through the noise and crowd, his attempts foiled by another person nearly stepping on him. He launches himself past a game table, then runs for the bar, heart pounding.

_ “Maz-” _

Maz nearly runs straight into him, both surprised for a moment before she drops to a knee in front of him, taking hold of his arm. “I know,” she says. “They’re here for you?”

Kuiil stares at her, then nods, before he throws himself into her arms and lets out a sob.

“Shh. Kuiil.” Maz puts a hand on his back, then pushes him away to arms’ length and looks into his eyes. “I  _ know.  _ But this isn’t the time to be afraid.”

The music sputters to a stop. The room falls quiet as everyone around turns to look. Kuiil twists around and freezes at the sight of the troopers, each spreading out to look around. Maz steps back behind the counter and pulls Kuiil with her.

“Hide,” she says firmly. She leans down and digs her fingers into the edges of the floorboards, revealing a loose panel. She lifts it; it’s a small space, dark and lined with barrels, but there’s room where one is missing.

Kuiil stares at it, then up at her. “But… the tracking fob,” he whispers.

“It won’t matter. Go.”

Kuiil swallows and stares at her. Then he looks down into the darkness and begins to climb into it, lowering himself down and to the floor. It feel cooler. He looks up at Maz, who gives him a nod.

“Be quiet,” she says, before replacing the panel and leaving him in darkness.

Kuiil lets out a nervous breath and sits down, curling up. Maz’s footsteps recede and then talking begins. It’s too muffled through the floor. Light barely gets through the cracks, leaving slight shadows in the black. He swallows and holds himself.

His hands tremble.

Then the shooting begins.

Above devolves from almost calm discussion to violent chaos, blasters firing and furniture overturned, shouting happening overhead. He sucks in a breath and curls up, trembling.  _ No. No no. It’ll be okay. It has to be okay. _

_ Buir. Come back. _

It drags on. Screams and shouts and shots, Maz’s voice intermingled with the others, helmeted voices blending in with a roughness that tells him it isn’t Mandalorians. His heart pounds. He stands up and pushes on the panel, raising it just a few inches to look out.

Nothing. It’s all on the other side of the counter. He drops back down and just takes deep breaths.

It seems to drag on forever. 

Until the panel lifts and a hand reaches in to grab him, the tracking fob beeping softly above.

His footsteps pound against the floor, his heart in his ears. He doesn’t know where he’s going, only following his senses. There’s a path of unsettledness through the building, where the Force has become wavy with discontent. It guides him through the dark maze.

He’d heard stories of Moff Gideon’s exploits. He remembered hearing about the Purge of the Mandalorians, an entire warrior people brought low by the hand of the Empire. He hadn’t felt much sympathy then, not out of any hostility but  _ distance.  _ He’d never really met one. Mandalore had been neutral, not part of the Alliance.

Then he met Clan Djarin and their tribe. He’d learned more about Mandalorians as they really were than the impression he’d gained from Boba Fett. Their values, their struggles, their language, whatever they’d been willing to share with him even at arms’ length. Realized what Gideon had  _ done.  _ What it meant for him to have the Darksaber.

He thinks of Leia, and Han, and  _ Ben,  _ and tries to imagine losing them all.

He’d learned to care.

Now, there’s a fire in his own chest, a furious desire to help right the wrong if he can.

So he follows the Force’s directions, wherever they lead him, growing stronger and stronger until he’s sure he’s getting close. He can feel a presence coming closer, anger and hatred surrounding it.

He turns off his lightsaber and crouches, creeping closer. He can reach out and sense the walls where they stand, feel that it’s large circular, with two presences in the center.

_ Gideon. _

“What is going on out there?”

_ “We’re losing men, sir!”  _ The stormtrooper’s voice is full of static.  _ “The Mandalorians are--damn it!--they’re not slowing down.” _

Gideon scowls. “What is the sitrep on Takodana?”

“Our men landed and entered the castle,” another trooper says, his filtered voice echoing through the room. “They reported sight of the asset but haven’t checked in since. No answer.”

_ Then he’s safe.  _ Luke squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, willing his nerves to calm. If they aren’t responding, something’s gone wrong.  _ Kuiil must be safe. _

“Damn it!” There’s a small crash and the sound of something breaking. “I want the Mandalorians dead, whatever your men have to pull to do it. I don’t care if we have to blow this place off the surface.  _ Kill them.” _

He leans against the wall, letting out a quiet breath. Footsteps come towards him, the stormtrooper walking out, and he presses himself back against the wall with his breath held. His hand readjusts on his lightsaber.

_ “Skywalker!”  _ A Mandalorian’s voice breaks out from the comm-link on his belt, echoing through the room.  _ “The others aren’t answering, are you--” _

Luke rips it off and throws it aside, then darts into the room.

The Darksaber ignites, outlined white in the black, lighting up Gideon’s face for a split moment before it comes in an arc towards Luke. Luke’s saber bursts to life and he swings up to block, gritting his teeth when all the weight is forced against him. He holds for several seconds, sabers hissing and biting together, their faces lit up by the blades.

Gideon kicks out and Luke stumbles back with a groan. The Darksaber comes slashing again and he ducks out of the way, spinning around to throw another slash. It comes at Gideon’s chest, but it only bites into more beskar, hissing and steaming. It burns away the clothing, leaving a strip of shiny metal.

_ Must be a cuirass,  _ he thinks. Mandalorians knew how to fight jedi. He steps back and twirls the saber to reset, taking a deep breath as he thinks.  _ Protection on the side and front. Might be bastardized. A stab might go throu-- _

Then he’s dodging another swing and he blocks it. Then another and a third, Gideon throwing hit after hit and pushing Luke to step back, their blades hissing and biting and thrumming, until Luke throws out his hand and shoves Gideon across the room.

Gideon stumbles back and falls, landing with a groan as he slides. Luke takes a few steps, rolling his shoulders back to right himself. “What do you want with the kid?” he demands. “Why is he worth this kind of effort?”

He can’t see Gideon as he gets up, only sense him, until the Darksaber comes near his face and lights up his features. “It belongs to me,” he growls. “Din Djarin was hired to retrieve the asset until he _ stole _ it.”

“He’s not an asset,” Luke says. “It’s his son.”

Gideon stares at him, then smiles. “Of course,” he says. “The Mandalorian fondness for children. It’s almost  _ touching,  _ isn’t it?”

Luke lifts his saber. “It’s why you won’t get your hands on Kuiil,” he says. He steps closer. “Whatever you want with him won’t work.”

“I’ve destroyed far larger groups of survivors,” Gideon says. “The Mandalorians will die out.”

“They’re stronger than you give them credit for,” Luke says. “They do what they do for each other and to survive. You act out of hatred. They will  _ always  _ have the better deal.”

“It won’t save their culture from dying,” Gideon snarls, before he lunges forward.

Luke dives in to meet him, blades clashing. His stomach turns. If Din is dead, then the kid’s already lost his entire world. If Gideon gets a hold of him, he’s lost his best chance at a good life. He belongs with the Mandalorians. Not with Gideon.  _ Not with me. _

So he throws himself into it.

Gideon shoves himself into the position of attack but Luke turns the tide with ease, stepping forward instead of back and ducking under a swing. He throws power behind each hit, and Gideon’s focus intensifies as he parries each swings.

No use of the Force. He can’t anticipate like Luke can. So he puts it to his advantage and launches into a flurry of attacks, most barely dodged or blocked. Gideon slams aside a hit and ducks beneath Luke’s arm. He turns and swings down the Darksaber. Luke whips around and shoves his saber up to block it, gritting his teeth.

He throws Gideon off, then swings the saber and resets. “What’s been done to the boy?” he hisses. “There’s darkness in him. He’s influenced. What did the Empire  _ do?” _

Gideon smiles at him, then swings again.

Luke blocks and scowls. “What do you want him for?” he demands. “Cloning? As a weapon?”

“I won’t waste the breath on  _ you,”  _ Gideon snarls.

Another strike. Another block. “Why is Vader in his memories?” He blocks again. Both are out of breath. “He knows to Force choke. He knows how to use his ability. What isn’t just his  _ instinct?  _ What was done to a  _ child?” _

Several more cuts and slashes and blocks and guards, stepping around each other in just a circle. Luke takes every hit, deflecting it, absorbing it.

“Answer me!” he hisses. “Your plans are done. It’s over. Just  _ tell me.” _

There’s no answer. The Darksaber comes crashing down at him and he swings up to block. The lightsabers clash and bite, hissing as they press together. Luke twists and wrenches the Darksaber out of Gideon’s hands, throwing it to the side where it clatters to the floor. He points his saber at Gideon, eyes narrowed.

Gideon reaches for his blaster. Luke throws a hand out and shoves him back. He hits the wall with a groan, then twists over and pulls the blaster, firing two shots. Luke deflects them both, sending them into the wall. Gideon fires another two shots, then launches from the ground and lunges at him.

Luke deflects the bolts, then swings down. Gideon ducks beneath and slams against him, sending them both to the ground, and the lightsaber is knocked from his hand. Luke groans when a knee slams into his gut, a hand seizing his throat, and a blaster’s barrel presses against his chest--

_ “No,”  _ he gasps, and shoves his hands against Gideon, the Force pulsing through him and his hands. Gideon is sent off him, his weight disappearing as he’s sent across the floor. Luke lets out a breath, then rolls over onto his stomach and holds his hand out. His lightsaber flies into his hand and he gets to his feet, igniting it.

Gideon is slow to get up, hidden in the darkness. Luke lets out a huff as he walks towards him. He can hear Gideon’s groan, then his quickness to get up, full of anger. He grabs the blaster off the ground and raises it.

Luke throws his arm out. Gideon freezes, held in place, and Luke lets out a strained breath as he walks closer. “The kid will be safe,” he growls. “From you. From the dark side.  _ All of it.” _

“You… can’t,” Gideon hisses, forcing it out. “You  _ won’t.” _

Luke stares at him, then raises his lightsaber.

There’s a  _ chhhh  _ and the Darksaber bursts from Gideon’s chest.

Luke stares at it, freezing. The light illuminates Gideon’s face, who stares down at the blade with a shocked expression, before it pulls back and out of him. He falls to his knees, breathing hard.

Din stands behind him, chest heaving and barely standing, the Darksaber gripped in his hands.

The green and white lights illuminate their space. Gideon turns to stare up at Din, whose armor is lit up by the saber, almost glowing. Din stares down at him.

He doesn’t speak before taking a swing. Gideon throws a hand up, but the Darksaber simply cuts through his wrist and neck. Head, hand, and body all fall to the ground in a lifeless pile. For a moment, they only stand in silence, save for Din’s heavy breathing.

Then the Darksaber’s blade disappears and Din makes a sound of pain in his throat before collapsing to a knee. Luke shuts off his saber and shoves it into place on his belt, stepping around to grab Din’s arm.

“Hey,” he mutters. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re fine. Let’s go.”

“Th…” Din grabs onto him and forces himself to stand. He reaches up and flicks on a light on his helmet, leaning his weight on Luke, and Luke grits his teeth as he takes it. “Ca…”

He makes clawing motions at his throat.  _ Can’t speak.  _ Luke just nods.

They turn and start down the hallway. Din is slow moving and sluggish, but Luke keeps them moving, and eventually pulls out his saber for more than the pointed, unfocused light.

“Kui…” Din’s voice just squeaks instead, and he makes a frustrated noise.  _ “Kid.” _

“I think he’s okay,” Luke says, out of breath. “A trooper said the men they sent hadn’t reported back. He might be safe. I think he is.”

Din just lets out a huff of air.  _ That’s not enough. _

_ I know,  _ Luke thinks.  _ I know it’s not. _

From up ahead comes yelling. A cacophony of sounds approaches, boots running and armor clanging and shouted orders, more panic of a group than fighting. Two more lights come running around the edge, a Mandalorian and Dune, both turning to see them.

“Found them!” the Mandalorian yells as Dune races forward to Din, grabbing him by the top of his cuirass.

“Are you alright?” she demands, concern and worry spelled across her face. Din manages a nod, though his head is drifting to the side.

“He can’t talk,” Luke says. Dune comes to Din’s other side and he’s happy to give over the weight. The other Mandalorian comes close. “He’s dead. Gideon’s dead. Killed him with the Darksaber.”

The Mandalorian pauses to look at him, face masked. “Poetic justice,” he mutters. Luke just nods. “I’ll take him.”

Luke steps away and shuts off his saber.

They manage to return to the room from earlier, now full of Mandalorians who talk in nervous tones. Several are holding body parts, pulling off parts of armor to attend to injuries. Ari is surrounded by her parents, held tightly, and Luke feels a sense of invasiveness to look at her. He knows he’s not meant to see her face. Any of their faces.

They all stop as the four turn the corner, and watch instead.

Silence. Instead of speaking they move aside and their Armorer steps forward, looking battle weary but holding herself as proud as before. She steps up to Din.

Din pulls his arm from Dune and holds out the Darksaber, still gripped in his hand. There’s a collective intake of breath from the Mandalorians as several more step up to look. They almost crowd around Din and the Armorer to see.

The Armorer takes the saber. She examines it, then ignites it, and the blade shoots into the air, humming with energy. Its light reflects off all the gathered beskar. The Mandalorians seem entranced for several seconds until it’s shut off. She holds it out to Din again.

“Hold onto it,” she says.

Din stares at her for a moment, then takes it, and with a shaking hand places it on his belt.

“Gideon?”

“Dead,” Luke says, drawing the attention to him. “In pieces.”

“Good,” the Armorer says, and she turns to look at the other Mandalorians. “We must go and with haste. We cannot be sure there are not more stormtroopers and the child is in danger.”

The Mandalorians nod and scatter all at once, breaking into urgent chatter. Din throws an arm around Dune again, breathless, and they begin to move.

Kuiil lets out a cry as he is lifted from the hiding spot, the back of his tunic gripped tight by the trooper. He stares at Kuiil, face masked. “Got it,” he says. He pulls the kid against his side, an arm pinning him, and Kuiil squirms with a yell. “Let’s go!”

The entire bar is overcome with shouting and the sounds of blasters, and the trooper gets up only to duck down beneath a shot. Kuiil fights against the arm, slamming his bracers against the trooper’s, but there’s  _ nothing.  _ “Let me  _ go!”  _ he screams, a sob breaking through. “Let  _ go  _ letgoletgoletgo--”

“Shut  _ up,”  _ the trooper snaps. He leans his back against the counter, looking around, then stands and turns, firing a shot.

Kuiil sobs and slams harder against the arm holding him, kicking as hard as he can manage, struggling to breathe. “No no no no!” he wails. “Maz!  _ Maz! Buir!” _

It goes unheard in the middle of the fight. A trooper nearby turns and gestures at them. “Go!” he says, his voice coming through the commlink. “Get to the ship.”

“NO!” Kuiil screams. “Let  _ gooo--” _

The trooper nods and waits for a moment before running out from behind the counter, darting towards the door. Kuiil throws a hand out and holds it shut against the trooper’s pulls. The man looks down at him, then huffs and gives him a harsh squeeze that makes him gasp and whimper. The door opens and they run through, down some stairs and into the underbelly of the castle.

“Stop,” Kuiil wails, hiccuping. “Down, down…”

“Shut up!” the trooper snaps. “I don’t  _ care.” _

Kuiil sobs, taking great, shuddering breaths that wrack his body, and he continues to fight against the trooper’s hold with decreasing energy. He’s held from around his chest and his ribs are squeezed, aching. “Please,” he whimpers. He  _ strains.  _ “Please…”

“Hey!”

The trooper stops and turns. Hilla stands in the hallway, her blaster held high with two shaking hands. Behind her stand Qi’jan and Rosso, one with another blaster and the other holding a vibroblade.

“Oh, for the love of,” the trooper scowls. He turns and lifts his blaster, aiming it. “Bunch of little  _ heroes,  _ aren’t you?”

Hilla clicks off the safety, swallowing. “We’re  _ Mandalorians,”  _ she says. “Let him go.”

“Better plan,” the trooper says, “You all run along and keep yourselves  _ quiet.  _ Put the blasters down and walk away.”

“Let me  _ go--”  _ Kuiil squirms harder. The trooper huffs and squeezes him again.

“No,” Hilla says, standing firm. She shifts her feet. “You’re outnumbered. Four to one.”

The trooper laughs. “It’s barely equal, sweetheart,” he says. He takes a step back, lowering the blaster. “Get going.”

Hilla stares at him, then squeezes the trigger. The bolt flashes past and misses the trooper’s helmet by just inches, and he freezes to stare at her. He turns and raises his gun, firing back.

The foundlings scatter, but it still catches Qi’jan in the shoulder, who drops with a scream. “NO!” Kuiil cries, blinded by his own tears. He scratches at the trooper’s vambrace, kicking against his side, “Nonononono, stop stop  _ stop--” _

Hilla and Rosso both look at Qi’jan and the trooper turns, sprinting down the hall, and fighting seems all but useless. Kuiil sobs, pounding his fist against the trooper’s arm with little result, until he can hardly breathe.

They burst out through a side door and into the fresh air, the blue skies above and the sun hanging low in the sky. Kuiil gasps for breath, the trees looking far more threatening now.  _ “Buir,”  _ he sobs.  _ “Buir. Buir…” _

The trooper moves at a fast walk. The river is in the distance. He makes one last attempt to squirm free to no avail, and just wails instead. The Force feels  _ awful.  _ There’s no  _ buir,  _ no Luke, no Maz, no  _ ba’vodu.  _ Everything is wrong. Everything is so, so wrong.

Then there’s a shot from a blaster and the trooper stumbles forward, hissing in pain. His shoulder smokes. Kuiil twists to look. In the castle doorway, the foundlings stand there, Hilla’s blaster raised. Her eyes are big.

“Run!”

Kuiil stares at her, then sucks in air and shoves against the trooper’s arm as hard as he can, gaining barely an inch. It’s enough. He pushes himself through and slips free of the hold, dropping to the ground. He lands with a painful  _ thud  _ but gets to his feet and runs.

“Hey!”

A hand swipes at him, missing by inches, and he sprints as fast as he can manage. Hilla fires another shot, sailing over Kuiil but missing. His heart pounds. He has to blink through the tears. His chest aches.

A hand seizes his arm and drags him back.

“No!” he screams.

“Come  _ here,  _ you little  _ womp rat--” _

Kuiil turns and throws his other hand out, the Force pulsing outwards. The trooper is shoved back and grunts as he hits the ground. He quickly sits up to stare at Kuiil.

Kuiil stares back, panting for breath.

The trooper reaches for his blaster and pulls it. “I’ll give you to the Moff  _ dead  _ if I have t--”

He doesn’t think about it.

His hand reaches out and the trooper freezes, unmoving. He stares at Kuiil, then begins to claw at his throat, gasping for breath. He pulls at his neck guard, ripping the armor off, but it continues to tighten. He rises into the air, onto his feet and then several inches above the ground. Kuiil watches. His hand tightens.

Into a fist. Tighter and tighter. The trooper struggles in the air, fighting hands that aren’t there. Kuiil pushes out a second hand, taking another hold.

The trooper lets out a strained sound, one hand dropping to his chest, his midsection, trembling. Kuiil twists his. Something runs through his body.  _ Anger. Hatred.  _ A fire that engulfs all of him, one of the strongest things he’s ever felt.

The darkness surges.

There’s a  _ pop  _ and blood splatters over him and the ground around him. He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches up to wipe it away, taking deep breaths. There’s nothing left of the trooper anymore, instead staring at a pool of blood and other things he can’t name. His stomach lurches.

He turns.

Hilla and Rosso stand just outside the castle, staring at him. Maz stands beside them. Taking deep breaths, he begins to walk back. His entire front is splattered with blood and other bits of dark, unidentifiable matter. Hilla takes off her helmet and stares at him with a expression that barely masks fear.

Maz looks at him with an expression he can’t identify--if it’s disgust, fear, or just concern. But she holds out her hands to him, and takes his despite the blood. “Let’s clean you up,” she says, her voice soft.

Unable to conjure any words, he follows her into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Beroya'e - bounty hunters  
> Aruetiise - outsiders, traitors, foreigners  
> Haaranovor - hide
> 
> Fun links:  
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send asks about anything.


	5. The Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need to talk about the Darksaber.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Quarantine hasn't been kind for mental health so finishing this up was difficult. Hope y'all enjoy.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

They fit comfortably on the two ships, enough for Din to be laid out on the floor with blankets, his visor dimmed and bacta applied around his throat. He doesn’t try to speak, focusing more on his breathing. He drifts in and out of sleep, waking to the quiet murmurs around him. There’s a sense of accomplishment and sorrow.

He continues to drift.

The ache in his head won’t go away.

Eventually, someone comes and sticks him with something, and he’s out.

At some point, he’s aware of Paz lying next to him. He’s conscious, if the grunts of pain are any indication, and there’s muffled sounds of pain. He looks over and sees Zhith and Asaar kneeling beside him, pulling off pieces of armor to treat the damage.

He turns his head. He sees Luke, the Armorer, Griphin, standing and talking. Every few seconds, they glance towards him. He feels sluggish, slow, out of his own body. He doesn’t feel like focusing his eyes. His head rolls and he stares at the ceiling.

He slips into darkness again.

Luke stands at the door of the _Razor Crest_ as they land on Takodana, a nervousness in his stomach at what might still await them. The Mandalorians have been quiet for most of their journey, most focused on tending to the injured ones spread out on the floor. They haven’t lost anyone on the journey home, though many have strayed close.

Din has held steady, as dim as his life force seems. Luke is relieved. He was in and out of it early, fitful and distressed until someone injected him with something through his arm. He’d become calm for a while, just mumbling in his sleep, sometimes seeming awake but not aware.

 _He’s alive,_ Luke tells himself. _That’s what matters._

He’d hoped Din could be at least responsive when they landed. That Kuiil would be okay and they’d be able to see each other. Reunite again. Both be assured that everything was okay now. That they’d won. That everything was _okay._

The _Razor Crest_ settles and the door raises, the ramp lowering. Everyone standing stays out of the way as the wounded are gathered up, brought out first. Two people carry Din, one at his back or feet, and they’re careful as they move him. Some wounded can stand and walk with help.

Luke looks over his shoulder and sees the group waiting for him. Maz stands with the foundlings, who all are stepping forward and looking for their guardians. Kuiil stands among them, gripping Maz’s hand, almost hiding behind her.

As Din is carried off, he perks up and watches, then rushes over. _“Buir?”_ he whimpers. _“Buir?”_

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian with Din says. “He’ll be okay, _ad’ika.”_

The kid makes a whimper and jumps onto his shoulder to follow.

Once the wounded have been taken off and brought towards the castle, the rest follow. Luke walks down and towards Maz, a group of children running past with cries for their parents, and she looks up at him with hands on her waist.

“You’re back,” she says.

“Barely,” Luke says. “Gideon is dead. The Mandalorians have their Darksaber. Plenty of deaths, but… not in vain.”

Maz nods, but there’s something on her face that Luke can’t _not_ notice. She looks past him towards the other Mandalorians.

“Maz,” Luke says. “Is something wrong? What happened with Gideon’s men?”

She looks at him, then lets out a sigh. “The children will tell the Mandalorians,” she says. “Let’s go somewhere more private to… discuss it.”

Luke frowns. When Maz turns and begins walking, he follows behind her, an unsettled feeling coming to his stomach.

While the Mandalorians coup up in their usual part of the castle, Maz and Luke go elsewhere, locking the door behind them. Luke watches as Maz lets out a long breath, leaning back against the table, and frowns.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s Kuiil,” she says.

Luke tilts his head to the side. “He’s okay.”

“Physically, he’s fine.” Maz walks over to take a seat. “Besides that… I’m concerned.”

Luke turns to face her. “Gideon’s men?”

“Dead.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“They came hours ago,” Maz says. “I’d sensed it as they arrived. Kuiil came running, frightened out of his mind. He hid beneath the bar. When the troopers showed up, they were demanding to find him but got a shootout instead.”

Luke nods.

“They had a tracking fob,” Maz says. “Found him anyway. A trooper managed to get him out of the castle, but some of the foundlings stepped up and stopped him.” Maz looks up. “Kuiil killed him.”

Luke stares at her. _“Kuiil,”_ he says. “Kuiil killed a trooper?”

“Didn’t just kill,” Maz says, her voice deathly serious. “Maimed. He choked him and turned the man inside out, like a burst of red. He was covered in blood and guts when he came back. Wouldn’t speak for a good time.”

Luke looks towards the door, drawing in breath. Kuiil had seemed _off._ But his father had come home injured and unconscious, and the last day had to have been more than rough. It was easy to chalk up to a stressful time that made him feel strange.

“The dark side has a seed planted in that boy,” Maz says. Her voice is tired, sad. “He needs help, Luke. Both you and Din Djarin _need_ to be the barriers that stop him from falling further than he has. It’s become more important than it first seemed.”

Luke stares at the table, then runs a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. “Din needs to know,” he says. “As soon as he’s healed and conscious to take it. I’ll… I’ll talk to Kuiil if I can.”

Maz frowns. “He wouldn’t talk to me,” she says. “But maybe to you.”

They fall into silence. A few moments pass, and then Maz gets up. “I will see if they need anything to care for their injured,” she says. “Take care of yourself, too, Luke.”

Luke nods and watches her go. Then turns back into his own thoughts.

Din wakes with a groggy well-restedness. Everything feels off for several moments, disoriented and confused, until his hand is gripped and he notices the small weight sitting in his lap.

_“Buir!”_

He looks down at Kuiil with clear eyes -- his own eyes, his helmet gone. All his beskar is gone but for his pendant. He blinks, then shifts and winces as he does. Kuiil stares at him with shining eyes, leaning forward with a hand planted on Din’s chest.

 _“Ad’ik…”_ he starts, but launches into a coughing fit. Kuiil pulls back, staring at him, and the tears begin to fall.

 _“Buir,”_ he whimpers.

He shoves forward and presses himself against Din’s chest, whimpering. _“Buir,”_ he repeats, over and over, a mantra forced out from trembling lips. Din forces his arms up and around the boy, holding him tight. Their minds slot together again, the blessed noise of thoughts and emotions blocking out the silence.

“T-Told you I…” He coughs again. His throat feels raw and scratchy. “I’d come… back.”

That only serves to force Kuiil into further hysterics, sobbing into Din’s plain clothes. Din rubs his back, focusing on his breathing, on feeling more like he’s in his own body. Kuiil’s claws against him are grounding, something to focus on, a slight pain. In the tiny room, they are quiet, until Kuiil squirms to get up and Din lets go. He shifts down and reaches a hand to Din’s throat, claws spreading as his eyes close.

“No,” Din says, catching his wrist. He clears his throat. “I’m f… fine.”

“No you’re _not,”_ Kuiil says, sniffling. _“Buir._ Please.”

Din stares at him. Kuiil puts his other hand against Din’s cheek, his eyes big with tears. “Please,” he whispers again, sniffling. _“Please.”_

Din swallows and lets go. “Not if it’s a lot,” he says.

Kuiil is quick as he presses his hand against Din’s skin and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. The healing is an odd sensation, but not unpleasant -- like a wave of something is running beneath his skin, dragging comfort and healing with it.

The bacta took care of the bruising, so whatever damage lies within his windpipe is repaired. Kuiil soon sits back with a tired blink, looking no worse for wear, so Din just lets out a breath and feels how it has become easier.

Din reaches up and cups Kuiil’s face in his hand. The boy leans into it, still sniffling. He doesn’t seem hurt -- he must be fine. “Gideon is dead,” he says, his voice coming through without pain. “He’s never going to hurt you again. He’s never going to hurt _us.”_

Kuiil lets out a whimper. “You’re okay,” he whispers.

“I’m okay.” His throat is healed but his head throbs. “We’re okay. We’re all going to be okay now.”

Kuiil pushes forward to curl up by his collarbone. His head tucks beneath Din’s chin and he sniffs, settling down there. Sleep still pulls at him, and Kuiil’s warmth is another draw. There’s soft voices outside, familiar ones that only pass by. The room goes untouched.

Din holds Kuiil and slips back under.

When he wakes, the sun beams have moved across the floor and he stares at them through a helmeted gaze. He’s being shaken gently and he immediately turns to grab the arm, jolting awake, reaching for his vibroblade where it doesn’t sit.

“Mando.” It’s Luke. His voice is soft. Din relaxes just as Kuiil squirms in his arms, seeming to press against his chest, and Din glances down before sitting up with the kid in one arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he mutters.

Luke nods. His gaze shifts down to Kuiil with a slight frown, who stares in return but seems to shrink back against Din, turning and hiding his face. Both give off different kinds of nervous energy and Din frowns, a hand rubbing Kuiil’s back. “What is it?” he asks.

“There’s things to talk about,” he says. “If you’re feeling up for a discussion.”

Din takes a breath and nods. “I’m fine,” he says.

Luke nods, then turns and walks to the door. He steps out for a moment and Din just watches, frowning to himself, until he returns with the Armorer and Griphin behind him, both silent. The door closes behind them and Kuiil shifts in his arms, turning to look.

The Armorer stands at the end of the bed, Griphin at the side next to Luke. For a moment, they’re silent, until Din breaks it.

“How’s Ari?” he asks, his voice almost hoarse by how soft he is.

Griphin barely reacts but for the tiny movement of swallowing. “She’s fine.”

"Paz?"

"Pulling through fine." Then he clears his throat. “We need to talk about the Darksaber.”

Din glances at the Armorer. The Darksaber hangs from a hook on her belt, out of place and yet seeming like if it belongs anywhere, it’s there. _Mand’alor,_ he thinks, letting out a breath. “What is there to discuss?”

“You killed Gideon,” the Armorer says. Her voice is as clear and authoritative as ever. “You killed the _demagolka_ and the hunter of our people with the Darksaber. You’ve claimed it as yours.”

Din stares at her. “... I,” he says, and pauses. “I killed him with it, but it… it’s not mine.”

“It is,” the matriarch says. “You’ve killed the Usurper. The one whose aim was to slaughter our people. You took the Darksaber and _claimed it.”_

“Din,” Griphin says. “You’re the one to wield the Darksaber. You’re _Mand’alor.”_

Din stares, looking between them both. Though Luke only watches, a silent spectator, Kuiil lets out a breath and his hands dig into Din, looking up at him. _“Mand’alor,”_ he whispers.

Din’s stomach is turning.

“I couldn’t,” he says. “I don’t… I don’t want it. I’m not _Mand’alor._ I’m not a leader, I -- _you’re_ our leader. It should be you. You’ve lead us since the Purge and I could never…”

“You took the responsibility when you took the saber,” the Armorer says. “You picked it up not to seize power for yourself but to kill Gideon and avenge us. If it were a decision we did not like, we would not be standing here telling you that you are _Mand’alor._ We would give it to someone we had faith in. You have thought low of yourself for years, Din, but now is not the time to do so.”

She reaches down and takes the Darksaber off her belt, handing it to Griphin. Griphin holds it out to Din, who only looks with trepidation. It’s a beautiful weapon, one he’d jump at the opportunity to be able to master and use. But the symbolism behind it stands for so much more than he’s willing to take.

“Din,” Griphin says. “Take it. It won’t just be you. You think we’d just dump responsibility on you without help?”

“I don’t know how to wield it,” Din says.

“That’s what I’m for,” Luke says. “I’m already here for Kuiil. I can teach you to use it.”

Din looks at him, then at the Darksaber. Both Mandalorians have piercing gazes. Luke is silent again, his expression neutral. Kuiil squirms a bit.

Then the Darksaber floats out of Griphin’s hand and in front of Din. Din looks at Luke first, whose eyes are lower, and he looks down at Kuiil. His hand is outstretched. 

Kuiil looks up at him.

Din pauses. “I _can’t.”_

Kuiil tilts his head. “You’re not supposed to lie,” he says in a soft voice, smiling.

“But what if--”

“This is the Way,” the Armorer says. Her voice is firm, unyielding.

“This is the Way,” Griphin repeats.

Din swallows. He reaches out with a shaky hand, his fingers hovering just beneath it. He pauses there, waiting, waiting for _something._ Then the Darksaber drops into his hand and he grasps it, feeling its weight.

“This is the Way,” he whispers.

The Armorer and Griphin leave soon after, but Luke lingers, a hesitant expression on his face.

“What is it?” Din says, finally setting aside the Darksaber on the bedside table. Anything to get it out of his hand.

“We need to talk later,” he says. “Just us.”

“Is something wrong?”

Luke hesitates. “Later,” he says. “You and I, whenever you’ve got a chance.”

Then he turns and leaves.

Din watches him go, then glances down at Kuiil. “Something’s up with him,” he mutters, before he puts the boy down and gets up.

Kuiil makes a soft sound in his throat but says no more. Din reaches for his stacked armor and begins to layer it on, his head still aching, but he tightens each strap and places each plate on with muscle memory. It feels familiar, right.

“Where are you going?” Kuiil whispers, staring up at him.

“To see how the others are doing,” Din says.

“But…” 

“What is wrong?”

He kneels beside the bed, putting them on the same eye level. Kuiil stares at him, then just wipes at his face. “I-I…”

“Did Gideon’s men come?” he asks softly, reaching out to touch his vambraces and run a thumb over the metal. Kuiil sniffles and nods. “Did they hurt you?”

Kuiil shakes his head. “Th-they… almost,” he whispers, before he gives a loud sniff again. “Almost. But they’re dead. They’re _dead.”_

“Good,” Din says, and in an easy motion scoops the kid into his arms. Kuiil jumps up further onto his pauldron and clings there, leaning against Din’s helmet, and Din places a hand against him before he walks to the door.

“Wait.”

Kuiil is turned, looking back into the room, and he holds a hand out. The Darksaber lifts off the table and floats towards them, hovering just inches away. “Luke carries his,” he says.

 _It’s not the same,_ Din is about to say. But he bites his lip instead and reaches out to take it. It clips onto his belt, an unfamiliar weight that seems to drag him down.

He walks out of the room and into the hall. Several Mandalorians stand around in their groups, talking amongst themselves. Some have pieces of armor stripped with bandages in their place. They’re moved in tight, speaking low, the usual habit of their lives. _Quiet within the covert._ To not be heard, to not be known.

When he closes the door behind himself, they all turn to look.

They don’t speak. Like the day he returned with the beskar reward, they watch him go by, their helmets tilted downwards. The Darksaber seems to hum, weighing heavier, impossible to keep his focus on anything else.

His heart is quick, but he keeps walking. At the end of the hall, it splits into a T section but against the wall is a bench and chairs. On it sit Ali’i, Ari, and Jaylen, one twin on each side of her with Ari tucked into her side. Cara sits on a chair beside them, talking in low tones.

As Din approaches, they look up. Ari glances at him, then quickly buries her face in her mother’s neck again, hiding. His chest hurts. Ali’i’s helmet tilts down towards the Darksaber before looking up. _“Mand’alor,”_ she says.

Din swallows. “Are you alright?”

“We’re _fine,”_ she says, a bitterness in her voice as her grip on Ari tightens. Din’s stomach twists again, a sense of guilt buried in his bones. “Just fine.”

Cara frowns. She stands up and looks at Din, then steps to the side and walks down the hall. Din follows and they stop just out of earshot.

“This is what the helmets are to you,” Cara says. Her voice has anger in it, but it’s mostly melancholic. “When you said you couldn’t put it back on -- I didn’t… realize what you meant.”

“That it cuts you out,” Din says. _“Dar’manda._ Lost heritage. Your life… it disappears.”

“Why?” Cara demands.

“This is the Way,” Din says, his voice soft.

Cara stares at him, then lets out a breath. “Aren’t you their leader now?” she asks, looking down at the Darksaber. “The _Mand’alor?_ Doesn’t that give you the power to change that rule?”

Din winces. “I’m only ordered to be _Mand’alor,”_ he says. “And if I had the power to change the outcome -- it doesn’t matter. The meaning behind it doesn’t change. It still happened. She’s still _dar’manda.”_

“Why not let her _stay,_ though? Helmet or not?”

Din frowns. “Would _you_ want to?” he says. “With your family, but reminded every day that you’re not one of them? Everyone looking at you with pity and only thinking of what was done to you?”

Cara is quiet, just looking at him.

“We don’t always force them out,” Din says. “Not right away. We’ve had people lose their helmets, by force or by choice. They choose to leave anyway, sometimes before we even know. They take the chance they have to start a new life where no one knows their shame.”

“Their shame,” Cara repeats with bitterness. “So what now for her? You all go back to your covert and just leave her here? To find her own way?”

“That’s what… would be expected,” Din says. “It’s excommunication. Cutting them off.”

“That’s cruel,” Cara snaps.

“That’s why I thought she could go with you,” Din says.

Cara pauses and looks at him. “What?”

“She knows how to hunt,” Din says. “She’s got a mind for it, I just never got her enough experience. She just needs a place to stay, someone to keep teaching her. You’re Karga’s enforcer -- you’re usually on Nevarro.”

“I can’t suddenly be her parent,” Cara says. “That’s not…”

“You’ve met Ari,” Din says. “She can parent herself. She’s got the spirit of a Mandalorian no matter what. And hunting has been her dream. All she needs from you is shelter, food and hunting lessons.”

Cara stares at him.

“Please,” he says. “I know it’s more than I should ask of you. But I’m not… we’re not supposed to make arrangements for them after the Creed is broken. To keep in contact. Please. If she’s with you, I’ll know she’s okay. Her parents will know.”

Her face is twisted with discontent but she lets out a breath. “It’d be worse if I just… left her here, too,” Cara says. “Fine. I’ll do what I can for her.”

“Thank you,” Din says. “Everything is… different now.”

“Yeah,” Cara says. “Different.”

“Everything changes.”

“Keep yourself lower,” Luke says. “You’re used to keeping straight to shoot a target but a lightsaber is different. You need to hold yourself like this.”

Din shifts to mirror Luke’s stance, the Darksaber held out in front of him. The weapon thrums in his hands in a display of power. The sun sets behind them, casting an orange glow over the second day of their stay at the castle.

“Good.” Luke straightens, then turns and slashes at him. Din jerks the blade upwards to block it, letting out a tense breath as he holds against Luke’s push. The lightsabers hiss against each other, flickering. “Good--”

He breaks the hold and slashes again at Din’s side. He moves to block again, this time stepping back to sweep the Darksaber around. But there is no hold and in an instant Luke is attacking his other side. It glances against his beskar, creating a _hiss_ and steam before he brings the Darksaber up and pushes the blade away. Beneath his layers, he’s sweating.

“It’s awkward,” Luke says. “Until you’re used to it, you won’t be able to react as fast as you’d need to.”

“How often would I be using this against a jedi?” Din breathes. “What’s the point of learning to fight _you?”_

“If you can fight me, you can fight anything,” Luke says. He steps back and twirls his saber. “Lightsabers are elegant. Better than any blaster. If you can fight another user, you’ll certainly know how to use your weapon.”

Din looks down at the blade, then looks over his shoulder. Kuiil watches them from several yards away, seated on one of many empty barrels. He’s leaning forward, too small to make out his expression.

Luke looks, too, and his face is weighted with worry. “We--”

Din steps forward and swings the Darksaber.

Luke starts but counters in time. The Darksaber has been getting more comfortable in his hands and he’s quick to slash again, stepping forward, and Luke blocks but is forced back. Din smiles to himself and still moves forward, still on attack.

Until they both strike and the blades lock. They each push hard, Din gaining more ground in the lock by force until Luke twists his saber around. The Darksaber is flung from his hands, landing in the grass as it deactivates, and a green blade is pointed at his chest. Din freezes in place and lets out a breath.

“That was good,” Luke says. “For a few hours, that was good.”

He holds out his hand and the Darksaber lifts off the ground, flying into his grip. He holds it out for Din. Din reaches for it, but Luke doesn’t let go. His expression instead falls serious.

“We need to talk.”

Din frowns. Luke lets go and his arm falls to his side. “About what?”

“About Kuiil.” His voice is soft. “About what happened while we were gone.”

“He’s fine,” Din says. “He said he’s fine. Troopers came but they’re dead.”

“Yeah, they’re _dead,”_ Luke says. “Because Kuiil killed the one who tried to take him.”

Din pauses. It unsettles him to hear it, but he shakes his head. “We’ve taught him to defend himself,” he says. “He knows how to use a knife if he has to. That’s not strange. That’s Mandalorian.”

“Turning a person _inside out_ is Mandalorian?”

Din stares at him. “What… are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how that kid used the Force to completely mutilate a person in a way that’s _too_ horrific for any child,” Luke says. His voice is more forceful. “That’s more than sith. That’s so much anger and fear that I can’t even imagine.”

“How do you know?” Din demands. “You weren’t there.”

“No, but Maz was,” Luke says. “Her word, not mine. She saw it. She said that the trooper was in the air and choking and then he just _burst._ Kuiil came back covered in blood and guts. He couldn’t speak and she _felt_ the darkness in him.”

For a moment, silence.

“It was… It was self defense,” Din says, but his voice is weaker than before. He closes his eyes. “What else was there…”

He looks back over towards Kuiil, his stomach twisting. Kuiil stares back, then his ears droop.

“It’s not that he defended himself,” Luke says. “It’s what he did for that self defense. Force-choking was one thing. Doing something like _this_ is completely different.” He lets out a breath. “It’s what I’ve been worried about this whole time.”

“Killing Gideon was supposed to solve our problems,” Din mutters.

“It solved one problem,” Luke says. “This is another.”

Din looks down at the Darksaber. “I have to talk to him,” he says. “He… didn’t say a word about it.”

Luke tilts his head to the side. His expression is sad. “You’re his father,” he says. “He wouldn’t want to tell you about something like that.”

Din glances over his shoulder again, feeling sick. Kuiil is still on the barrel, his presence in Din’s mind becoming nervous. He lets out a breath. “I’ll talk to him,” he says.

Luke nods. “I want to speak with him as well, but I think you should do it, first. Sooner, better than later,” he says. He looks behind Din. “... I’ll go. We can continue tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Din mutters.

Luke nods and puts his lightsaber away before he turns and walks off towards the castle. Din closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the sweat against his skin, before he turns and begins to walk back towards Kuiil. The boy watches him, his nervousness growing. Din stops a few feet away.

He then walks over and sits on the barrel beside him.

There’s nothing but silence, thoughts racing. _What to say. What to do._ There was self defense and there was slaughtering. There was use of force and there was overuse. He didn’t _know._ What to say, what to do, facing an insurmountable challenge. _How to deal with this._

_“Buir?”_

He looks down at Kuiil, who puts a hand against his leg with tears shining in his eyes. He gets up and begins to climb into Din’s lap, but Din brings up a hand and pushes him back. Kuiil stops and stares at him, sniffling. _“Buir--”_

“Were you going to tell me?” he asks.

Kuiil falls silent and the tears begin to fall. “I-I,” he chokes, but nothing more when he just looks down, sniffling.

“Kuiil,” he says. “Answer me.”

The boy gives a loud sniff. “I didn’t w-want to,” he whispers. He wipes at his eyes. “I didn’t…”

“You _have_ to tell me these things.” Din looks at him. “Hiding it isn’t going to help. It’s _dangerous._ Your powers are strong and good but _dangerous_ if things like this happen and you don’t tell us.”

Kuiil stares at his vambraces. Din looks around to see no one near, then lifts his helmet and lets out a sigh, running a hand over his face and through his hair. Then Kuiil looks up, his expression tear-filled.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “He… H-He was going to take me. He almost… we were outside, and the ship, and…”

“I know,” Din says. “I know.”

Kuiil frowns. He climbs forward into Din’s lap again and he doesn’t stop him this time, instead pulling him into his arms and holding on tight. He trembles, and Din just holds tighter, both sitting in silence. The kid’s face buries against his neck, tucked beneath his chin.

“I’m in trouble?” he whispers.

Din doesn’t respond at first, staring at the ground in front of them, a deep discomfort inside him. “Yes,” he finally says. “Because… _jahaatir._ You kept it from me.”

Kuiil’s breath is hot and shaky against him. “You left me.”

It cuts deep. Din’s breath hitches and he thinks of Luke putting Kuiil to sleep in his arms. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

For several moments, they only sit in silence. Both take deep breaths.

“I don’t… understand this,” Din says. Kuiil looks up at him. “The Force. I don’t… know what it’s like for you, I can’t feel it. Luke would know this better. But I still want to help you. So you have to tell me, whether it’s good or bad.” He lets out a breath. “Killing a stormtrooper isn’t bad. They can _all_ burn for all we care. It’s the… the implication of how you did it.”

Kuiil sniffs. “It didn’t seem bad,” he says. “It didn’t… it just happened. And it… it was scary.”

“It _was_ scary,” Din says. “And it shouldn’t happen again, not with Gideon gone. But it can’t go like that.” He makes an amused huff. “You’re freaking Luke out.”

The kid manages a smile. “You don’t like Luke.”

“He’s… alright,” Din says. “He was useful.”

Kuiil gives him a push and both smile. The weight in his chest has abated, even if it’s still present. A cool breeze blows past and Kuiil feels calmer, face buried in Din’s shoulder.

“We’ll talk with him and Maz,” Din says. “We’ll figure out what to do. How to do this right. How to help you.” He brushes his thumb over Kuiil’s cheek, wiping away a tear trail. “And everything will be okay.”

“Okay,” Kuiil whispers.

They sit in silence. The breeze feels nice against his face. The warmth of the sun is disappear, sinking over the trees, leaving them in cool shadow. He rubs a hand on Kuiil’s back, both feeling relaxed.

Eventually, Kuiil squirms. He looks down at the Darksaber. “You’re _Mand’alor,”_ he mumbles.

“Yes,” Din says.

“You said it was important.”

“It… is.”

“So you’re leader now?”

Din nods with a hesitant expression.

“What now?”

He shifts. “We send… I send out a call to the other Mandalorians in the galaxy,” he says. “We’re all sworn to obey that call. The Darksaber lends legitimacy to it. We unite our people and go from there. Try to rebuild ourselves.”

“More Mandos,” Kuiil mumbles.

“Yeah. A lot more, hopefully.”

The kid lets out a breath, then snuggles closer, eyes shut. Din keeps his hand on his back, then reaches over and lifts his helmet, slipping it back on. He leans back against the castle wall and takes a deep breath. Around the corner, there are the sound of Mandalorian voices, too muffled to make out identities or words.

“We’re safe,” he mumbles. He relaxes for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, a real life monster, a war criminal  
> Mand'alor - sole ruler  
> Dar'manda - state of not being Mandalorian. Not outsider, but someone who has lost their heritage, identity, and soul.  
> Jahaatir - tell lies, deceive
> 
> There's one last fic in the series until their entire story gets wrapped up. If you've been reading for a while and are still with me, thank you.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> Adika -- little one/son/daughter  
> Udesiir -- relax, take it easy, calm down  
> Gar aliit -- your family  
> Buir -- father/mother  
> Cyar'ika -- darling, sweetheart  
> Ner ad -- my son  
> Ner ik'aad -- my baby  
> Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum -- I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Daily remembrance of those deceased, following by repetition of loved ones' names.  
> Su'cuy -- hi  
> Me’vaar ti gar? -- how are you? / what's new with you?  
> Narser -- purpose (Luke's wrong answer)  
> Kaysh mirsh solus -- his brain cell is lonely (calling someone dumb or stupid)  
> Naas -- nothing  
> Ba'vodu -- aunt/uncle  
> Mand'alor -- sole ruler  
> Alor -- leader/chief/boss
> 
> Come chat on the [Discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) for Mando talk, more writing, and to just hang out.  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


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